


Inside Out(cast)

by evakuality



Series: Archetypes [2]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-03-22 00:29:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 139,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13752426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evakuality/pseuds/evakuality
Summary: Isak's an Outcast and as such he's never really felt like he belongs anywhere.  He's tired of his life and wants something more, but he can't figure out how to defy the expectations of his archetype and be his own person. And don't get him started on his family ...Sequel (or same-timeline-quel??) to You're my (arche)type.  This is the same timeframe seen from isak's point of view.  But it's about more than just his perspective on Even's story.  Everyone has a journey, and this is Isak's.  It runs in tandem to Even's but isn't the same.  It shouldn't be necessary to read that one first, but there is background there that could enhance this reading experience.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is not explicit yet, but that's coming so this is a pre-emptive rating. Please enjoy :D
> 
> I would like to thank my betas. They are all incredibly wonderful people who make everything I do so much better. I <3 you guys!! Many many thinks to Arin for the title. Without her, I'd still be thinking about it and this would never have been posted <3

“Jesus Christ, Eskild; can you please stop smothering me?”

Isak bats Eskild’s fingers away from his hair as he tries to fluff it up.  Eskild is armed with a suspicious-looking can of some sort, and there are combs and hairbrushes lined up along one side of the kitchen table.  It’s early on the first day of the school year, and Isak is trying to eat something to settle the cold pit sitting in the bottom of his stomach.  It’s _too_ early for any of this shit, if you ask Isak, but no-one ever does.  He guesses that’s the downside of living with an over enthusiastic Fairy Godmother who has taken him under his somewhat rumpled wing.

“It’s the first day of school, Baby Gay,” Eskild chirps happily.  “You need to look superb and enchanting and in control of your life.”  He wrinkles his nose as he inspects Isak’s choice of clothes for the day.  “You never know who you might meet,” he says pointedly.

“Don’t call me that,” Isak says, negating Eskild’s nickname second nature to him now.  He glances down at his clothes while trying simultaneously to shovel as much food into his mouth as he can.  It’s not a good idea, he realizes as a fat lump of his toast breaks off and falls, thankfully landing on the floor rather than Isak’s jeans.  He inspects his outfit.  Jeans, a decent t-shirt and a shirt slung overtop.  It might not be high fashion, like a lot of what Eskild wears, but it’s comfortable and there are no holes anywhere.  For Isak, this is better than a lot of what he puts on.  He shrugs as he looks back up into Eskild’s exasperated eyes.  “This is fine, Eskild.  Who am I going to meet?  It’s all just the same old people doing the same old stuff.”

“Isak!”  Eskild presses his hands to his chest in mock anguish.  “What about the first years?  What about the hot young things so new and eager at the school?  So lost and needing expert guidance to show them the ways of the school … and life.”  He looks Isak over again.  “They’re not going to be blown away by _this_ display.”

“I don’t care about the possibly hot, but probably snotty and gross, first years,” Isak says.

The idea of meeting someone, falling in love, spending time together.  None of that sits right with Isak.  He’s seen first hand what it looks like when people think they’re in love but then it all falls apart around them.  He’s seen and he has no desire to put himself into harm’s way, no desire to be burned the way others have been.  Besides, no-one but an Outcast is ever going to give a shit about Isak in that way; he’s been there before and those memories are too painful to even face right now.

“Don’t you want to meet someone?  Get a boyfriend?  Have lots of beautiful, archetype-appropriate babies?”

Eskild tries to straighten out Isak’s collar and do up the buttons on the shirt as he speaks.  Isak rolls his eyes, irritation sitting in every bone as he pushes Eskild away.

“No, Eskild.  I really really don’t.”  He looks at his phone.  It’s five minutes past the time when Isak should have left already.  “Shit!  Fuck!  I have to go.”

Eskild expertly grabs his lunch off the counter and thrusts it into his arms as Isak rushes for the door.

“Have fun!  Look good, meet someone nice!” Eskild yells after him, his voice cutting off as Isak slams the door behind him.

It’s blessedly quiet on the streets as Isak makes his way to the tram.  There’s a small window of time in the mornings when most commuters have yet to catch their trams for work but many school students have already left.  It’s Isak’s favorite time of day, and yes, sometimes it gets him to school a little late but it’s worth it for the tram cars that are less full, and the silence he can wrap around himself.  That silence fits him, slides on like a glove as he sits huddled in the corner on his way to school.  The Outcast, sitting alone, sneering a silent _fuck you_ to the world.  Isak likes it when he can do this; it sets him up for the day.  For the knowledge that he is on the outskirts, that he has to hide so much of who he is behind his big smile and sarcastic remarks.  Not even Jonas knows what it is that sets Isak apart and makes him Other.  Different.  Not like the other boys.  A misfit.

The tram rattles on and Isak sinks further into his morose thoughts.  It’s getting harder as every day passes not to tell him, not to say, “hey Jonas, by the way I like boys.  No surprises there for the Outcast, huh?” but he can’t bring himself to do it.  Even though Jonas probably suspects.  Eskild hasn’t exactly been subtle in his hints and suggestions and ‘baby gay’ remarks.  Surely Jonas, who is pretty smart, must have caught on.  But there’s a difference between thinking someone might know and actually telling them in cold blood.  Fear races down Isak’s back as he thinks about it.  There’s always the worry that Jonas’ face will go cold, that his eyes will dim and that he’ll look at Isak differently.  Eskild hadn’t, but Eskild is Eskild and is probably super excited to have another gay person in the apartment.  Not that Isak is exactly a stellar example of gay pride.  Eskild’s disappointment in his clothes and his habits always sits at the back of Isak’s mind, reminding him that he’s not even a part of that community.  Not really.

Isak’s stop is called and he reluctantly gets up and makes his way to the exit.  His day has barely started and he’s already fed up with school and with life.  He just wishes something could change.  He slings his bag over his shoulder and sighs as he walks towards the school.  Supposedly one day he’s going to find some other Outcasts with compatible interests and be incredibly happy to be with them.  He’ll get to be part of a group, make a connection.  The problem is that Isak can’t see it happening.  He’s grumpy, sarcastic, morose and irritable, not the sort of person who inspires connection and commitment.  Not even from his own family.  Jonas puts up with him.  Magnus and Mahdi seem to think he’s okay.  But the friendship he has with them is not what Isak is really yearning for, not what he lost when his father walked away so many years ago, leaving him and his mother living together in painful miscommunication until Isak’d had enough and moved out.

He’s feeling angry and stressed as he pushes open the door to the school and tries to settle his face into its usual cheerful facade.  There are students everywhere, mingling, talking and laughing together.  Isak dodges them, or tries to.  He has to bite back irritated barbs as one after the other they thud against him as they pass, knocking him off his axis and moving on without even a sorry, as if he doesn’t even exist.

Isak makes his way towards the principal’s office.  For some reason, last night he got a cryptic email asking him to sign in there this morning when he arrives.  As if just starting back at school isn’t stressful enough, Isak has to face the guy who has made it abundantly clear he doesn’t much care for him.  Isak groans when he gets there.  The door is closed against him, which means the principal has someone else in there.  Which is just Isak’s luck, really.  No chance now of a quick dash in and out.  Isak leans against the wall, tapping his feet irritably as the clock nearby loudly ticks every second, mocking him with its insistence on making sure he knows exactly how long he’s been there.  Waiting.  Isak can’t help it; his brain keeps track of every single time it ticks.

By the time the damn clock has ticked 682 times, the door squeals and someone inside laughs as the principal’s deep voice rings out.  Isak pushes off the wall and moves towards the door, biting back a curse as he slams into the guy who’s coming out.  In his hurry, he’s misjudged the speed at which the other guy was exiting and one quick glance up to his face tells Isak that the guy is startled by the sudden interruption.

“Fuck, sorry,” Isak says, feeling a blush heating his cheeks.  He’s never seen this guy before, and Isak’s sure he would have noticed if he’d ever been at school.  He’s gorgeous, his sparkly blue eyes crinkled around the edges as he smiles down at Isak.  Isak feels a jolt of attraction when he looks at the guy as he says, “no problem,” in a voice that should be made illegal.  It’s deep and warm, and the guy sounds kind.  Isak shivers, trying to keep his cool as he drags his attention to the coming interview, settles his smile into a more neutral face and looks at the principal’s door.  He sends a silent apology to Eskild, who had been right that Isak might meet, or in this case literally run into, someone hot and interesting today.

“You’re done in there?” Isak asks, trying to force his thoughts back onto what’s important here today, and doesn’t even notice if the guy answers him or not.  The guy’s hotness will have to wait, and Isak shudders as he squares his shoulders and marches into the small room.  

“Ah, Isak.  Welcome.”

The principal smiles as he comes around his desk to hold a hand out for Isak to shake.  Isak takes it, looking at him carefully to try to gauge what he wants out of Isak.  His face is unreadable, the smile one of those professional ones people put on that mean nothing.  It’s practised and easy, but there’s no warmth in the eyes.  Isak shivers again, desperate to know what he wants with him.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m not sure why I’m here,” Isak says, wanting to cut to the chase and get out of here as soon as he can.

The smile on the man’s face slips and he drops Isak’s hand.

“I want to be clear that we’re on the same page, Isak.  We know you have a lot of potential, and you can work well when you apply yourself.”  He looks at Isak again, and this time the expression on his face is calculating, as he tries to decipher something in Isak.  Isak shifts uneasily under the intensity of that gaze.  Eventually, the principal leans back against his desk and sighs.  “We have some interesting scholarships available, some to institutions in other countries.  International cooperation, you know.”  The man sounds smug as he says it, as if the fact that Nissen has connections with other countries is somehow a reflection on _him._   He beams at Isak as if Isak is supposed to applaud his grand achievement, and Isak manages to smile weakly in response.  “Yes, uh--” the man coughs before continuing with a slight twist of his lips.  “Others are for living expenses, books, that sort of thing, for more … uh, local universities, and we think you might be able to attain one of them.”  He smiles that fake smile again, and Isak can tell how much it must be costing this man to offer this to him, when he’s so obviously unimpressed by Isak.   As if in confirmation, the principal adds, “but only if you work harder than you did last year.”

Isak ignores the man’s obvious distaste, as immediately his vistas open up.  The idea that he could go to some of the universities he’s always dreamed of, the well-known and respected science-focused institutions, well that’s a dream long-held and one isak has long considered unattainable.  Even the living costs would be wonderful.  Not having to rely on his father’s reluctant donations to his living costs would be more than Isak had ever imagined.  Not having to take it out as a loan, either; it all seems too good to be true.

Consequently, Isak gapes at the principal, unsure if this _is_ what he’s really hearing.  He knows he gets good grades, but he’s never felt like he’d be singled out for special treatment in this way.  Never felt like he deserved this sort of thing.  The recognition sets something bright alight inside of him.  “Me?  Why me?”

“Yes, you,” the man says with a small laugh, clearly starting to enjoy himself.  “Some are general, open to everyone and I’m sure you _could_ have a chance at those,” he adds, obviously seeing the confusion slipping away and the understanding dawning on Isak’s face, “but there are others open only to Outcasts.  Those ones you have a very good chance of receiving.”

“Oh.”

Isak’s heart twists as he listens.  It’s not because he’s good that this is happening, then.  It’s because he’s good for an _Outcast._  This is just another reason why it sucks to be an Outcast; people always assume you’re not good enough to compete with everyone else.  They expect you to fail and so whenever you show even a slight hint that you could amount to something, they jump in with offers to help you on your way.  Just once, Isak wishes he could stand on his own two feet and be judged just as Isak and not as the type he is.

“That’s … it’s good of you to think of me.  Sir.”

“Good.  Good,” the principal says with another jovial smile which doesn’t quite reach his eyes.  “You work hard this year, Isak, and you could go into third year with your future set.  Wouldn’t that be something.”

Gritting his teeth, Isak smiles, the mask he’s been wearing so comfortably for so many years slipping on easily.  “Yes.  That would definitely be something,” he agrees, nodding as pleasantly as he can.

He shakes the man’s hand, then leaves the room just as the bell rings for the start of school.  He grits his teeth and makes his way to his first class, where Jonas is thankfully waiting for him.

The rest of the day drags, which sucks.  It’s day one and usually Isak loves the start of school.  He’s generally the most eager student and wants to be back into learning.  But not today; today the irritable feeling scratching at Isak’s brain after talking to the principal infects every lesson.  By lunchtime he’s had enough.  He’s bored, unmotivated and already stressed.  If Isak works hard he gets 6s, and particularly in the subjects he’s strong in he can generally get them easily enough.  And if he’s not getting 6s, it’s usually 5s.  Those are good grades, and most other people would be complimented on them.  But not Isak.  No.  The knowledge that he’s still not considered that great a student by the people who matter in his education  is sitting on his chest and pushing him down.  He’s decent for an Outcast, they say.  Great fucking show.  What’s the point in even trying when he’ll never be seen as anything other than an Outcast?

“Heeeeey,” Jonas says as he drops into the seat beside Isak in the cafeteria, startling him out of his thoughts and dragging a “fuck” out of him.  “How’s the wonder boy?”

Isak snorts. Wonder boy.  As if.  He’s just been given a short sharp lesson in how that’s not true.  

“I’m not a fucking wonder boy, Jonas,” he snaps.  “What the fuck?”

“Why are you so grumpy?”

Isak sighs, feeling the tension settling in his bones and making him jittery.  It’s not Jonas’ fault, none of it is, so Isak knows he shouldn’t take it out on him.  But he can’t reel it in either.  He shrugs, unwilling to talk about it, and out of the corner of his eye, Isak notices the slight twist of Jonas’ mouth and the way his eyes flicker as if he’s considering leaving.  That idea just makes Isak feel even worse.

When the others arrive and Jonas almost leaps out of his seat to greet them, Isak feels himself falling deeper and deeper into his mood.  They’re so gratingly cheerful that he can’t cope and Isak’s own presence seems to be unwelcome and a hindrance to Jonas’ good vibes.

“I’m going to get a toastie,” Isak says, giving him an excuse to duck away from the loud wave of noise that arrived with the boys and to assuage some of the guilt that is building in him as he thinks about how much of a downer him being here actually is.  

Standing by the counter waiting to get some food, he glances back at the guys and grimaces.  They’re all leaning in towards each other, eyes lit up and grins splitting their faces.  Magnus is waving his hands around and the other boys are smirking.  It’s a telltale sign that Magnus is telling one of his blunder-filled stories.  As Isak watches, they all fall back in their chairs in clear delight as the story comes to an end, and their laughter drifts over even to where Isak is standing.  He can feel his mood plummeting further and an unwelcome lump rising in his throat.

There’s no easy laughter and funny stories for him.  Not today, and maybe not any day.  Not when everything feels like it’s falling apart around him, and there’s no-one to give a shit.  Not when he feels like he’s not good enough and never will be.  But Isak knows he’s also walking a dangerous line.  If he’s too moody and withdrawn, the guys will know something’s up.  So Isak does what he does best.  By the time he’s ordered and paid for his toastie, he has his face on.  He’s swallowed that lump in his throat, and he’s put his swagger on to make his way back to the group, then plops down into his seat.  

“That is the saddest looking toastie I have ever seen,” Mahdi remarks.

Holding in the sharp retort he wants to make, Isak clenches his hands under the table, forces himself to relax them and then nods.  “It looks like shit.  But what can you do?”

“Maybe not buy it,” Magnus says and Isak snorts.

“Gotta eat something, and who wants that healthy shit?”

He nods at the display case, which is still filled with various yoghurts and salads.  The gaps where the few less-healthy options once stood are a stark contrast.  The boys glance over and nod their understanding.

“Oh!  Isak, I forgot,” Magnus exclaims suddenly.  “That hot first year, you know the one?”

Isak squints as he tries to think, though his heart is sinking.  He knows what’s coming now and the idea of doing this yet again makes him grit his teeth and stifle a groan.  “Emma?  Maybe?”

“Yeah, her.  God she’s hot,” Magnus says with a dreamy sigh which ends up making him drift right off topic, to Isak’s frustration.  “I’d totally fuck her.”

“As if she would,” Mahdi says, chuckling when Magnus gasps in outrage.

“What about her?” Isak cuts in.  He doesn’t want to prolong this, and knows that any small sidetrack will get them onto which girls are fuckable and which ones he wants to fuck.  Which is exactly none of them.  He regrets ever mentioning Emma back when he was drunk and high at a party.  The boys have dragged her into every conversation they’ve had since then.

“Well, you know how she was all over you at that party?  You know, before the year started?”

Isak nods, though he feels like grabbing Magnus by the collar and yelling, ‘get to the fucking point already,’ but he knows that’ll just end up with more interrogation so he -- almost successfully -- keeps his cool.

“Well,” Magnus says, with the air of someone imparting a hugely significant, life changing piece of information, “she’s an Outcast too, Isak.  It’s like it’s fate or something.”

This time, Isak actually does groan and drops his head onto the table before catching himself and leaping back with a start.  He can’t quite keep the feeling of disgust to himself, and he swallows, fear stabbing at him as he looks around at the boys.  Mahdi looks at him strangely and Jonas coughs.

“What’s the matter?” Jonas asks, clearly taken aback.

And shit.  Isak’s not equipped to deal with this right now.  He’s supposed to be into her, and now he’s _really_ pissed at his younger, drunker self for putting him in this position.

“She’s a fucking psycho,” Isak says, trying to cover his ass.  “And it’s not like I’m going to bond with every damn Outcast who walks into my life,” he adds with his jaw clenched in indignation.  “Do you know how many of us there are?”

“Yeah yeah, okay.  We get it.  You’re too cool for the other Outcasts.”

“Fuck you,” Isak says, before lapsing back into his morose silence.

That’s the thing the other guys have never really understood.  They know that there’s this mysterious connection that supposedly happens with Outcasts and they keep trying to throw Isak at any they meet because they want to see it in action.  It makes Isak feel even more alone and miserable, as if he’s not a real friend but rather a laboratory specimen they keep around because he’s interesting.  What, he wonders grumpily, would they do if he was a Beast like his mother?  Prone to rages and instability?  Would they keep him around for entertainment then, too?

They’re all talking about how hot Emma is and how Isak should totally just go for it with her since she’s an Outcast too.  Who cares about being a psycho, after all, when the girl is hot and willing?

“I need to get to class,” Isak announces suddenly, bile rising in his throat as he listens to them.  It’s not like he’s really wanted here after all and this discussion is giving him a headache.  He can’t stomach having to listen to all this crap about girls and fucking when all he wants is to yell at them, tell them his real secret, and just be done with it.  The impulse is getting stronger by the day but there’s still far too much at stake for Isak to be willing to give in just yet.

He gets almost to the door when Jonas catches up with him.

“Isak.  Hey.”  He grabs Isak’s arm and forces him to stop moving.  Isak grits his teeth and glares at the floor.

“What?”

He can hear the biting tone in his voice and he curses himself inwardly.  He’s such an asshole, and Jonas doesn’t deserve this from him.  As if to prove his point, Jonas’ only reaction is concern.

“What’s up with you today, man?  You’re not yourself.”

Isak slumps, the aggression seeping out of him as if it had never existed in the first place, leaving him drained and shaken.

“I dunno.  I just feel like … it hit me again about mamma.  This talk of archetypes and getting together, it’s not, like  … cool.  You know?”

It’s part of the truth, and Isak can hear the sincerity in his voice.  He watches anxiously for Jonas’ reaction and sighs in relief as he backs down.

“Okay, bro.  That’s chill.  I get it.”

“Thanks, Jonas.”

“I’ll … uh.  I’ll tell the boys to back off.  I know it must be rough.”

Isak shrugs.  “Yeah, a bit.  I guess.”

He’s suddenly uncomfortable, like he’s said too much, revealed a little too much of what’s going on in his head.  As if he really does get it, Jonas squeezes Isak’s arm and then turns to leave.  Wishing he could be a better friend, Isak throws his head back, angry at himself, and then heads to Biology.  The banter with Sana there almost restores his equilibrium, and while the day is still boring as fuck, Isak’s mood settles a little.  At least Sana, and the people in his final class of the day, don’t give a shit if he’s banging some chick.  They just care if he has the right answer.  So, fuck the boys and their obsession with girls, and fuck the principal and what he thinks; Isak usually _does_ have the right answer and he’s not going to let one guy’s bias stop him from achieving what he wants to achieve.  He’ll show that asshole he can earn a real scholarship not just one designed for losers who don’t quite make it.

It’s with renewed determination that Isak approaches the next day.  He’s furious at himself for the weakness he’d shown in letting the principal’s words get to him, and he’s even more keen than ever to prove the asshole wrong.  He attacks his classes with vigor, asking questions and doing what he needs in order to be seen as a good student.  It’s early days, and people’s memories from last year are probably still there when they think about Isak.  But the more he can be like this, the more those memories should fade and the more a picture of Isak as studious and engaged should emerge.   _This_ is what’s important, not what expectations some assholes might have about his type.  The morning passes well, then, and by lunchtime Isak feels like he’s actually accomplishing something.  He’s managed to wring some reluctant praise out of two teachers and he feels like he has some damn control over where he wants to go and what he wants to achieve.  By the time he meets up with the boys for lunch, Isak is smiling.  He rolls with the banter and the stupid jokes, makes some of his own and generally manages to fit in with them all.  Then he sees something out of the corner of his eye which immediately draws his attention.

Isak’s mood has lifted since yesterday, and with it has come a rekindled awareness of the hot guy he’d seen by the principal’s office.  Isak’s been kicking himself for the blase way he’d treated the guy.  He was so gorgeous that he can’t understand why he didn’t pay more attention at the time.  Isak’s thoughts have been snagging on the guy at irregular intervals throughout the day, and every time they do he’s been berating himself for his lack of follow through.  What a wasted opportunity.  Not that the guy is likely interested in boys anyway, but Isak could at least have taken a decent look at him.  You know, for posterity.  Or something.

And now, as if Isak’s good mood and slightly stalkery thoughts have conjured him, there’s the guy.  Sitting on a bench, talking to Sana Bakkoush of all people.  Isak’s heart stutters to a stop, and he loses his place in the conversation.  He blinks as he gazes across the yard.  The guy’s eyes seem to drift in Isak’s direction and he panics, dropping his own to stare at the ground.  But the respite is only brief as his gaze is drawn in the guy’s direction again.  Fortunately, the guy’s attention is back on Sana, his brow creased and his shoulders now slumped a little.

“Bro?” Mahdi’s voice cuts across Isak’s thoughts and he blinks, dragging his attention back to the boys.

“Sorry, sorry.  I was just … I saw Sana and I remembered I need to get some work from her.”

Ignoring the startled, dubious exclamations from behind him, Isak makes his way across the courtyard.  He settles into his usual swagger in a, probably vain, attempt to make the guy take some notice of him.

“Heeeey Sana,” he crows as he reaches her.  

“Isak,” she says, nodding at him with a slight smirk.  “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

All his senses are hyper alert, focused on the guy.  He can see him out of the corner of his eye, watching Isak and Sana together.  His eyes are intense and he seems to be observing them more thoroughly than Isak would usually expect in a situation like this.  The expression in his eyes when they meet Isak’s seems to suggest interest.  The knowledge that the guy might be interested, in a way that is a little more than casual, gives Isak confidence.

“I can’t just want to see your beautiful face, Sanasol?”

She tilts her head and glares at Isak.  He raises his hands in submission and laughs.

“Okay, okay.  Maybe I want some help with Biology.”

Sana’s dimples appear and she laughs too.  “Of course you do.”

“Hey!  I get 6s, Sana!”

“Mmmmm,” she says, as she glances between Isak and the guy next to her.  “You do, sometimes.  When you get help from the best.”

She preens, flipping her hands next to her hijab in a way that’s meant to imitate the same action on hair.  Usually it would be funny, and Isak would laugh.  And the thing is that Isak knows she’s joking, he knows she doesn’t intend to shame him, but the comment still stings a little after yesterday.  He plasters a grin onto his face, however, and forces a laugh of his own.

“You wish!  The amount of times I’ve saved your ass in Biology …”

Isak thinks he hears a snigger from the guy, and it takes all his resolution not to turn and look at him.  The one glance he did get earlier confirmed the enticing blueness of the eyes, and Isak doesn’t trust himself to look any closer.  Not if he wants to maintain plausible deniability when it comes to his reactions to the guy.  So he keeps his eyes on Sana.

“Fine,” Sana says.  “Truce.  We’re both brilliant.  Now, what can I actually do for you?”

“I … uh.  Was wondering if you’d mind going over notes with me sometimes?  It’s just easier to remember if I talk about it and no-one else is smart enough.”

“No-one else is gullible enough, you mean?”

Isak shrugs.  “If the shoe fits …”

Sana laughs again, and rolls her eyes.  “Okay, sure Isabell.  I’ll pull your skinny ass out of the fire again.”

“Like it won’t help you, too,” Isak says, poking his tongue out at her.  He turns to leave, giving her an ironic salute as he says, “see you ‘round, Sana.”

As he leaves, he lets his eyes roam over to the guy.  He’s watching closely, and there’s a spark in his eyes as they connect with Isak’s for a second.    He gives one brief flick of his eyes down Isak’s body before he drags his gaze away with heightened color in his cheeks.  Isak feels that one gaze as heat in his body as he leaves the two of them behind and makes his way back over to the boys.

 

By the time Isak gets home that day, he’s actually humming.  He skids through the door and throws his bag into his bedroom before heading for the kitchen to get something to eat.  Eskild is sitting at the table with what looks like a fresh cup of coffee and Isak groans in appreciation as he sees it.

“Halla, Baby Gay!  You seem extra chirpy today,” Eskild says, his eyes fixed on Isak in a way that suggests he’s going to give him a goddam interrogation.

“It was just a good day, that’s all,” Isak tries, as he rummages in the fridge for something other than Linn’s pre-made meals and Eskild’s variety of irritatingly healthy products.  He comes up short, but keeps his head in there because it’s easier than trying to fend off whatever Eskild has in store for him.

“Mmmmhmmm,” Eskild says, disbelief clear in his voice.  “When you came home yesterday like the weight of the world was on your fragile gay shoulders?  You expect me to believe that after all that, you had such a great day today that you’re humming?”

“Why not?” Isak asks, backing away from his futile search in the fridge and staring forlornly at Eskild’s mug of coffee, the scent of which is starting to permeate the room and making Isak’s nose twitch in anticipation.  “There’s no scientific reason why one bad day wouldn’t be followed by a good one.”

He can feel the small smile tilting his lips upwards as he thinks back to the guy, with his beautiful face and his gravity-defying hair and his kind eyes.

“Ooooh,” Eskild says, his eyes lighting up as he looks hard at Isak, watching the shifts in his expression.  “You met someone!”

“I … what?  How does that even … That makes no sense!”  Isak stumbles over his words.  But he can feel the traitorous blush that’s rising up in his cheeks.

“I’ll make you a coffee if you sit down and tell me all about it,” Eskild offers, his voice encouraging, and Isak thinks _fuck it._  It’s not like Eskild doesn’t know he likes boys, and it might be a relief for Isak to talk about it for once.

He sinks into a seat and groans as Eskild leaps to his feet and bustles to the counter to make the drink.  

“Tell me _all_ about it, Baby Gay,” Eskild says as he tips milk and measures coffee.  “What did he say, what does he look like?”

“Eskillllld!” Isak cries.  “Stop calling me that!”

Eskild looks behind him at Isak and winks.  He pushes away from the counter and moves back to the table to sit down.

“Whatever; stop complaining and tell your guru everything.”

Eskild places the cup in front of Isak then pats his hand, and Isak finds himself pouring everything out to him.  How the guy is _really fucking hot, Eskild.  You should see him.  So tall, and his hair!  It’s so bouncy._  How Isak doesn’t even know his name, but he feels like there might be something there because the guy didn’t look at him the way guys normally do.  He looked like he might possibly be interested.

Through it all, Eskild smiles and coos and pats him at appropriate moments.  There are days when Isak resents him and his overbearing ways.  But there are other days, like today, when Isak is profoundly grateful for Eskild’s care and the way in which he looks after Isak.  He’s always wondered whether Fairy Godmothers take in one person or many, and even now he’s not really sure (Eskild still has a motherly interest in Noora, for example, even though she’s moved out).  All Isak knows is that Eskild has basically adopted _him,_ and it’s so close to what he wishes he had with his family that sometimes he feels all the pain of what he’s been missing.  But right here, right now, all Isak feels is affection for this man who wants the very best for him.

As Eskild winds down from a rant about how proud he is of Isak and his first, timid steps into the wonderful world of being gay and enjoying men, Isak reaches over and hugs him.

“What’s that for?” Eskild asks, startled, as Isak releases him.

“Just … thank you.  For listening to all this.”

“Oh, Baby Gay, you’re so welcome.”

Feigning an irritation he doesn’t really feel over the nickname, Isak drinks his coffee.  He watches Eskild with fondness and a sense of wellbeing that wasn’t there even yesterday.  He feels like things might just be about to change.  Whatever might happen with this guy, Eskild is right.  Isak’s taking his first steps, and one day those steps are going to lead him somewhere.  He’s doing what he can with his school work and he’s allowing himself to really look at another guy.  That’s all big stuff and while it’s not easy, Isak feels proud of these first motions towards being truly himself.  They may be small in the big picture, but it does feel like Isak may be finally getting some sort of order into his life.

 

It’s two days later when Isak bumps into someone who shakes that feeling up again, jolting him out of his comfortable feeling of satisfaction.  He’s chatting amiably with Jonas as they make their way to a class when someone thumps his arm with their shoulder and he turns to bite out a sarcastic remark about looking where you’re going.  Only the words die on his lips as he finds himself face to face with his worst nightmare.

“Isak!  Halla!  I’ve been looking for you!”

“Hei, Emma,” Isak manages to say as politely as he can.  It’s not _very_ polite, and he can see Jonas’ mouth twist in surprise as his eyebrows rise almost to his hairline.

“We should hang out,” Emma is saying now.  “You know, Outcast to Outcast.  It’s so nice to meet someone the same as you.”

“Mmmmm,” Isak agrees, not pointing out that Outcasts aren’t exactly rare and that meeting others like them isn’t rocket science.  He catches Jonas’ reaction to his tone and grimaces.  Isak’s being a fucking angel right now, okay; there are so many things he could be saying to this girl, but he’s maintaining politeness.  Expecting warmth is a step too far.  Except that, of course, Jonas and the other guys think Isak likes this one and wants to fuck her, and right now it’s important to play up to that.  Internally, Isak takes a deep breath, steadies his shoulders and smiles at her.  “That could be nice, yeah.”

She beams at him, her eyes radiating her joy and Isak feels like a prize asshole.  In some ways, having an Outcast as a friend would be good.  Isak feels so often alone and on the edge of whatever is happening with his friends (product of the expectations of his type, he guesses) so having somewhere to be that accepts him as himself and where he can drop those expectations is a dream.  The problem is, _this_ particular Outcast is so annoying and she thinks they could get together.  Not that Isak blames her for that; it’s widely known that Outcasts either marry other Outcasts or stay single, so meeting a seemingly compatible Outcast is generally met with excitement and speculation.

But the thing is, they’re _not_ compatible and Isak knows it.  Withholding that information from her seems unfair but Isak can’t bring himself to let _anyone_ know, let alone this girl he barely knows.  It’s imperative that he keeps that side of him hidden, so he pulls on his best game face, slides a little closer to her and grins down at her.  He tries to pour sincere affection into his expression, but he’s not sure how well he’s succeeding.

“Friday, maybe?” she asks now, her voice breathless as she holds his gaze.  “We could get some pizza with some friends of mine.  They’re Outcasts too; they’ll be so happy to meet you.”

Internally, Isak is revolting against the very idea.  Externally, he widens his smile and nods.  “Friday sounds good,” he says.

She smiles again, eyes wide and hopeful.  There’s a blush sitting high on her cheeks and she flutters her eyelids as she drops her gaze bashfully to the ground.  Isak knows he should find this enticing, but he just finds it irritating.  It’s all he can do to keep up his own smile and wave at her until she’s gone.

Beside him, Jonas is smug, his grin knowing.

“Shut up,” Isak says, shoving his arm against Jonas’ and making him laugh.  He’s a little relieved that Jonas bought the display, but under it all he feels nauseous.  Like the pretence has cost him something precious that he can’t get back.

By Friday, Isak is truly feeling sick.  Emma has been around every corner it feels like, always smiling at him from over top of her clutched books, and his heart twists every time he remembers what he has to do.  Friday night looms like a rock in the middle of his smooth schooling highway.  Being with these people, just because they happen to share a type, completely disgusts Isak who’d rather pick friends based on shared interests.  But on the other hand, he does yearn for that connection.  He _wants_ to form an in-group and be accepted, and finding other Outcasts who have shared interests should theoretically make that easy.  If only Emma wasn’t so blatantly desperate to date Isak, he might feel better about all this.  These people may be exactly what he needs, but with Emma standing there so obvious in her desires, Isak can’t allow himself to find out.

The guy, the hot guy, has been around too but he brings up much less complex feelings in Isak.  Whenever their eyes catch and the guy’s smile crinkles as he holds Isak’s gaze for brief seconds, Isak feels about ten feet taller.  Without really noticing he’s doing it, Isak gathers more information on the guy.  He’s in third year, and is a recent transfer from Bakka.  He doesn’t have many friends and seems very much like a loner (an Outcast, maybe?  Isak’s heart beats faster at that thought).  He takes a tram on a line Isak could technically take to get to some places he frequents.  So if he watches the guy head for his usual stop after school on Friday and impulsively runs so he can make it to the one two stops later, well … Isak’s no saint and he feels like he may as well give it a try.   _Eskild would be proud,_ Isak thinks as he stands panting and waiting for the tram to arrive.   _I’m actually chasing after a boy and I have no idea what he thinks of me._

Somehow Isak’s impulse gives him the confidence to approach the guy when he’s safely on the tram, introduce himself and then brazenly get off at the same stop.  It allows him to make up a fictitious visit to a nearby friend, which conveniently falls through.  It allows him to fall into step next to the guy (Even! Isak has a name now!) and follow him home.  It allows Isak to accept an invitation to spend the afternoon and Isak’s heart is singing.

Once they’re inside, Isak’s nerves catch up with him.  Even’s mother is loud and brash and she’s casting a calculating eye over Isak.  Her enthusiasm is so over the top that Isak actually takes a step back.  He casts an eye towards Even, who’s looking at his mother with affection.  She reaches out, clearly intending to hug Isak and he feels himself shrinking away again, his heart pounding.  It strikes Isak then that he doesn’t really meet new people all that often, and when he does the situations are usually more controlled.  Even’s mother is an unknown and her exuberance is difficult for Isak to deal with.

Thankfully, Even seems to understand because he’s taking Isak’s arm and pulling him away from the kitchen and towards a, thankfully, quieter part of the house.  The touch on Isak’s arm burns in memory as Even drops it once they’re inside his room.  To try to take his mind off what that all means, Isak looks around.  His breath catches.

Even is an artist.  It’s there in every part of his room.  It’s not just the pictures he’s clearly made and put up on his wardrobe; it’s also in the way every object is lined up and has a place.  It’s there in the careful juxtaposition of a music poster with an advertisement for a local museum.  This room breathes ‘Even’ and every tiny detail gives some insight into his mind.  It’s vibrant, cheerful in a way that reflects his bright eyes and his sunny smile.  It’s also dark, the artworks he’s chosen to display shining a torch onto parts of Even he possibly doesn’t want people to know.  They’re raw, unfinished and powerful.  They _mean_ something, and Isak is charmed.  He feels like he could stay here looking at this room and find out so much about who Even really is.

Behind him, Isak can hear the shuffling as he looks intensely at the pictures on the door.  He’s not a particularly perceptive person, but Isak can almost feel the waves of tension coming from Even, and it’s so comforting to know that someone like Even feels the way Isak so often does.  He turns to Even and smiles, trying to do what he can to lessen the problem.

“Did you do these?”

He waves at the pictures he’s just been looking at.  
  
“Yeah,” Even says, and his body noticeably relaxes as he takes in Isak’s interest.    
  
“They’re good,” Isak says.  “You have an interesting style.”

There’s a curiosity in Even’s expression now and Isak finds himself relaxing too.  Something about Even makes the usual awkwardness Isak feels in new situations diminish as if it had never been there.  Maybe it’s that feeling like they’re both feeling the same, like they both want to make a good impression and are worried they won’t.  
  
“You like art?”  
  
Isak can hear the delight, the suppressed passion, in Even’s voice and he shakes his head sadly, wishing he did and that he could truly join Even in this conversation.  “Not really.  But yours seem … I dunno, a bit personal?  Like they mean something.”

He knows it’s the right thing to say when Even’s face splits into one of his devastating smiles.  The tension that had been simmering when Isak first looked at the pictures is gone now and Even pulls out a joint.  Isak grins.  This is something he knows, a dance he does with ease.  Smoking, getting high.  These are the backbone of his social life.

They sit on the windowsill and they talk while they share the weed.  It’s easy.  Slow.  There’s no feeling like they have to fill in every silence so there are long periods of time when no words are spoken at all.  Isak can feel the smoke’s effects seeping into every part of his body.  He feels both grounded and as if he’s flying and every time they pass the joint between them and their fingers brush Isak feels it as a shock in his fingers which rushes through his whole body.

Even seems contemplative, looking out the window and addressing big ideas as the weed dwindles and their words become more free.  The more they talk, the more Isak thinks Even must be an Outcast too.  There’s too much similarity in how they react to everything for that to be a coincidence.  Feeling a need to know if Even really is an Outcast, Isak smiles.

“This is nice,” he says with a sigh.  
  
“Mmmmm,” Even agrees, his head tilted back against the window ledge and a soft smile on his face as he looks at Isak.  “Weed’s always nice.”  
  
“Yeah.  But it’s _also_ nice to talk to someone more like me.”  Isak puts as much emphasis on the word as he can, trying to encourage Even to open up.  If he’s an Outcast, he should react, and the small flicker of recognition in Even’s eyes makes Isak’s heart beat faster.  There’s an acknowledgement there of their similarity, of their connection.  Relieved, Isak smiles.  “Good company is nice.”    
  
“Your company isn’t usually nice?”  
  
Even’s kind and he sounds truly interested.  Isak isn’t used to being so much in the spotlight like this.  Jonas and Eskild both pay attention, but neither of them make it seem so personal, so much like they _get_ Isak and understand him, like the question being asked has depth and meaning beyond the simplicity of the words.  Suddenly feeling vulnerable and exposed, Isak turns to look out the window again.  He thinks he understands why Even has been so focused on the outside today; it’s hard to let yourself be so vulnerable while you’re shut in and looking at someone.  
  
“I mean, it is.  But …” he glances back at Even.  “There are always all these expectations.”  
  
“I feel that.”  
  
Even’s voice is soft now, and there’s a pain sitting behind the words that tugs at Isak’s heart.  Even does get it, then.  The burning need to prove yourself against everything that people see and judge in your type.  The fact that they all see you as lesser and worthless because of how you happen to have been born.  Silence sits there between them, both widening a chasm between them and unexpectedly drawing them together in pained solidarity as Even stares at the world outside and Isak traces his emotions in his face.  
  
“There are expectations for you, too?” Isak asks eventually, and Even finally drags his eyes back off the window and the outside world and looks back over at Isak.  
  
“Always,” he whispers.  

It feels deep, like Even is handing him something precious, something Isak needs to hold and treasure and keep safe.  
  
Isak drags his eyes away after an infinity.  “Expectations suck.”  

There’s a suppressed rage in Even’s reaction to those words, in the way that his jaw clenches and his hands shake, that clicks with Isak.  He _knows_ that rage, he’s felt it and as he reacts to that side of Even Isak senses something in him reaching out, trying to make a connection.  He’s never felt this before, and he wonders if this is what everyone talks about happening when Outcasts connect.  It’s deeper, stronger, and more intimate in a way, than any friendship he’s ever started.  It feels like that small piece of him belongs to Even and with Even.    
  
“I like it with you,” Isak says then.  “You’re restful.  Not wanting me to prattle away and fill every moment with meaningless words.”  
  
Even shrugs.  “Never saw the point in talking for the sake of it.”  
  
Isak laughs, the connection he’s feeling buzzing through him at every confirmation that Even is the same as him.  “See.  You get it.”  He sighs, looking into the distance again.  “Meeting people in your archetype is so hard, so it’s good when it happens.”

Isak grimaces at the way his words echo Emma’s and he remembers his bitter thought that day.  That Outcasts aren’t exactly rare and her joy in finding him is completely overdone.  That all may be true, but this feeling of connection doesn’t come all that frequently and Isak allows himself a moment to enjoy it.  He _likes_ Even and the looks he’s been getting suggest that Even likes him too.  He’s not going to let Emma and her pushiness affect that, though the idea that he may be reading into the things with Even just like she is with Isak does sit at the back of his head.

Before Isak can get completely inside his head and overthink it, Even’s mother crashes into the room, breaking up the moment and sending the smoke scattering along with the lingering feeling of connection.  Isak makes his excuses and leaves when she asks if he wants to stay for dinner.  Her enthusiasm is too much for him and he feels overwhelmed at the mere idea of a meal with these people.

It’s only as he’s making his way back to the tram stop that Isak remembers.  Shit.   _Fuck!_  He was supposed to go to Emma’s today.  Even if it wasn’t too late, Isak’s not in the mood.  He’d rather spend this time thinking about Even and what happened with him this afternoon.  In the pleasant buzz that hangs around the idea that he’s not only met someone of his type, but that he’d _liked_ him, enjoyed his company.  The idea of trying to move out of that pleasant feeling and into his facade makes Isak cringe.  It’s already 19 anyway, and by the time he gets to the right tram and gets to Emma’s it’ll be too late.  

He sighs.  He can’t just ignore her, though.  There’s too much at stake for him to drop one of his best chances at looking ‘normal’ whatever that means.  As if on cue, his phone buzzes.

_Isak.  Hey. Um, I was wondering how soon you can get here._

Isak sighs again.  He takes the coward’s way out, texting rather than calling her back.  He makes up the best lie he can think of right now.

_Emma I fucked up. Took the wrong tram and I’m practically on the other side of the city._

It’s almost the truth, and Isak hopes it’s believable enough for her.  He watches anxiously as the tiny dots come and go.  She’s obviously considering her answer and Isak’s heart is in his throat.  He needs her to be okay right now, because she’s the key to all his cred with the boys.  If she figures out his secret, Isak knows the boys will know it within minutes.  The message finally comes through.

_Don’t lie asshole_

_Faen Emma it’s true!_

Luckily Even’s house _is_ a fair distance from Emma’s place and Isak is able to snap a picture of a nearby street sign and send it to her.  Her response this time is faster.

_You’re lucky you’re cute.  What about tomorrow?_

Isak groans.  He really doesn’t want to see Emma tomorrow either, but he knows he has to follow through so he sends her a thumbs up emoji and closes his phone.

When he gets home, Eskild is waiting at the door with big, serious eyes.

“Baby Gay!  You’re alive!”

“Oh fuck off, Eskild.  You don’t have to be so dramatic.”

“Oh but I do, my little protege.  You come in here so late and looking all smug as if you’re the cat who’s stolen the cream.”  He pulls Isak into a hug which he tries to resist, pushing back against him but it only encourages Eskild to hold tighter.  Eventually Isak slumps and lets Eskild snuggle him.  Once he’s had enough, Eskild pushes him back to hold him by the shoulders and look into his eyes.  “You see that glorious specimen of a man you were drooling over the other day again?  Is that why you’re so late and so smug?”

Isak’s blush is enough to make Eskild light up again, and he presses a kiss to Isak’s cheek.

“Well, I won’t push you, since you’re being so shy today.  But if he can make you smile like that then I am giving my approval.”

“I don’t need your approval,” Isak says reflexively.  

But inside he’s cavorting.  For all he moans about Eskild and his motherly ways, Isak looks up to him a lot and if Eskild thinks this is a good thing … then maybe it’s a good thing.  

“Um … Eskild?” he asks now, hearing the hesitation in his voice.  

Eskild has been moving away, but the soft question makes him turn and look at Isak in delighted query.  “Yes?”  The delight is so clear in his voice that Isak rolls his eyes, but he smiles too and glances at Eskild.

“I think … I think he’s an Outcast too.”

He can feel the grin on his face, feel the way it spreads despite his attempt to suppress it, and knows how goddam fond he must look with it.  Eskild’s eyes go misty and he walks over to hug Isak again.  Isak doesn’t resist this time, but lets himself melt into it.  It’s nice, sometimes, to be loved.

“I’m proud of you, Isak.  I hope you know that.”

“Yeah,” Isak manages on a choked out sob.  “Yeah, I know that, Eskild.  Thank you.”

He pulls away, unwilling to let more of his emotions show right now.  It’s bad enough that he’s said this much, and that he’s allowed his hopes and desires even this small amount of traction.  Eskild seems to understand and lets him go, but Isak can feel his eyes on his back as he makes his way to his bedroom.  This is all big, so much bigger than he’d expected when he first locked eyes with Even at the start of this week.

He pulls his textbooks towards him and starts up his laptop.  He needs to science this, needs to find out how Outcast bonds really work, before he can let himself give in to all the heady possibilities today has presented him with.


	2. Chapter 2

There’s an irritating buzzing coming from somewhere to Isak’s left as he blinks his way into consciousness.  It takes too many long moments for him to recognize the sound as his phone and register that he should deal with it.  He groans, pressing his fingers to his closed eyelids in an attempt to coerce them to open. They refuse to cooperate, so he fumbles blindly beside him as the buzzing gets more insistent.  Isak brings the phone in front of his face and grimaces when he finally manages to get his eyes open enough to read who it is.

“Hei, Emma,” he says, hearing the resignation in his voice despite all his attempts to stay cheerful when he’s dealing with her.

“Hi, Isak.”  Her voice is so cheerful that Isak can only assume she can’t hear the disdain he feels as he speaks to her.  That’s one small mercy. “I was just wondering when you wanted to meet up? It’s just that Lea and Mari are keen to meet you, and you promised …”

“Yeah, okay,” Isak says, stifling the groan he really wants to let out.  “Um … about an hour maybe? At your place, right?”

Emma hums a happy affirmative, and ends the call.  Isak stares unhappily at the phone in his hand.

This is too much this early on a Saturday, but the faster Isak does this, the sooner he can get it over with.  And there _is_ a tiny part of him that’s curious about what it might be like to actually form a friendship with other Outcasts, a part of him that wants to make comparisons with what he experienced with Even yesterday.  He just needs to find a way to do that without Emma thinking there’s ever anything going to happen between them. Again, anyway. They barely hooked up at that party, and yet to hear the school tell the story you’d think they’d had sex in front of everyone who was there.  Emma obviously knows _that’s_ not true, but she was so drunk she seems to think they did more, and that it meant more, than what really happened.

With a long suffering sigh, Isak drags himself out of bed and throws on whatever clothes are closest to hand.  Who cares that they’re a little wrinkled and have possibly been worn before. Isak’s never been one for fashion anyway, and today he really doesn’t want to look like he’s trying hard.  Emma’s bad enough when he makes less than zero effort; he can’t imagine how excited she’d be if it looked like he’d tried to dress up today.

The trip over to Emma’s is boring, and Isak wishes himself a million miles away.  There’s a guy leaning on the pole next to him on the tram who is probably still drunk from last night’s activities.  He belches every now and then, sending a wave of reeking breath in Isak’s direction. He turns away, but can’t escape the stench.  All this for a girl he doesn’t give a shit about. It’s almost enough to make Isak want to tell someone, get it over with that he’s not into girls, so he never has to deal with Emma again.  But every time he thinks that way, his heart freezes in his chest and his breath comes in panicked gasps. He’s not _ready_ to tell anyone even as all this elaborate pretence is making his life harder and more complicated than he knows it needs to be.  Instead, Isak holds his breath and keeps his head turned away as much as possible until he can get off the tram and make his way to Emma’s house.

The small ping of his phone makes Isak frown as he walks.  Everyone knows not to contact him this early on the weekend, so whoever this is it’s not a friend.  He sighs impatiently as he glances down and sees his mother’s name. The start of a rambling Bible text greets him, and he decides not to open it.  He can’t deal with whatever moralizing she’s decided he needs to hear today. It reminds him, however, that he hasn’t been to see his mother in a while and he grinds his teeth together in frustration.  He doesn’t want to deal with her. Not this week, but he knows he has to. It’s been too long, and she’ll be upset already. Best he gets it over with soon.

The intrusion takes his mind off his walk and he finds himself outside a nondescript apartment building, and rings the bell.  He’s buzzed in and makes his way up the stairs to the right apartment. He takes one deep breath as he stands there, debating whether he wants to just leave.  But he can’t now. Emma knows he’s here; she’s buzzed him inside already. He growls to himself. _Just get it over with and leave as fast as you can,_ he thinks.  How bad can it be?  Reluctantly, Isak raises his hand to knock on the door, and he almost runs anyway as he hears the excited murmurs and high pitched giggles from behind it as she opens it for him.  

“Isak, hi!” Emma’s smile is beaming as she sees him, and there’s color high on her cheeks, a telltale sign that the others have probably been teasing her about him before he got here.  He smiles, dragging his best interested expression onto his face, and follows her inside.

Two girls are staring at him in clear fascination as he steps into the kitchen.  One even looks him up and down and giggles causing heat to rise into his face. He tries to ignore them, but it’s hard when they are so blatant in their appraisal.  Isak’s usual gifts for swagger and teasing leave him and he gapes at the girls, unsure what to say or where to sit.

“Here,” Emma says, pulling out the seat next to hers and sharing a look with the other girls as he takes it.  Internally, Isak rolls his eyes at how fucking obvious she’s being, but he schools his face into a pleasant smile and leans forward.  She shifts a little so that her thigh is pressed against his and he shudders in disgust, trying hard to keep his face pleasant and interested.

“So … uh.  You girls are first years?” he asks as the silence extends just a little too long to be comfortable.

“Oh, yeah,” the blonde one says, her face twitching into a frown.  “It’s so confusing at a new school. I’m sure I’ll never figure out where to be and when.”

 _Idiot,_ Isak thinks to himself, _it’s not that big a school,_ but he doesn’t say it.  Instead, he smiles sympathetically and says it’ll get easier.  The conversation continues in the same stilted lines until Isak feels like he can genuinely say he needs to get home.  Emma’s disappointed pout makes him feel nauseous.

“I thought you might stay for some food,” she says, pressing her leg closer to his and turning to smile at him.

“Oh, um … I’m sorry.  Kollectiv tradition,” Isak says, drawing back as subtly as he can.  “We make a point of eating together every Saturday. No excuses.”

“Oh.” Her face falls further.  “You couldn’t make an exception for once?  For your fellow Outcasts?”

“No, sorry.  Eskild’s very particular.”  He grimaces at her, trying to look reluctant.  “It’s his Fairy Godmother side; he needs to nurture everyone and this is the way we let him.”

Emma nods as if this is perfectly reasonable.  She doesn’t know any Fairy Godmothers, then, Isak thinks with relief.  Eskild would go out of his way to make Isak stay here if he knew about this; thankfully, he’s nowhere near and so Isak’s lie is safe today.

“Okay.  Well maybe next week we can do it on Sunday so we can spend more time together,” Emma says, her hand brushing his arm gently.

“Next week?” Isak asks, appalled as he pulls away to stand up.  There’s no way in hell he’s letting her make this a weekly thing.  He can’t imagine anything worse than being stuck with this group of people for hours every week and being expected to pretend he likes it.

“Yes,” she nods enthusiastically.  “We should meet every week, the Outcast club.”

“Outcast club!” The darker haired girl, Mari, says clapping her hands.  “Oh, yes! We could get club badges and t-shirts or hoodies.”

Emma smiles, clearly excited about the idea and she tilts her head at Isak.  “What do you think?” she asks. “Wouldn’t that be fun? Our own little club?”

“Mmmmm,” he says.  “We’ll see.”

What he means is _I need to think of a reason why I can’t, but I can’t think of one right now_ but what she seems to hear is _I look forward to it_ because she takes his hand as they head to the door and presses a kiss to his cheek as he awkwardly goes to hug her goodbye.  He pulls back probably a little too quickly and she narrows her eyes at him. He grins, weakly, and rubs his hand on her shoulder.

“Thanks for inviting me, Emma.  This was … uh … this was interesting.”

She beams, letting her eagerness to spend time with him show on her face again and he can feel his smile slipping.  It’s stiff and painful on his face and he can’t wait to get away.

As the door shuts behind him, Isak lets out a long, slow sigh and throws his head back.  He can’t believe how uncomfortable that conversation was, and he can’t believe the others didn’t notice it.  There’s no way this is a group of Outcasts he’ll ever form a bond with; they have nothing in common with him and their conversation was so boring.  It was all school and trying to fit in and fretting how they might be able to even though they’re Outcasts. In thinking back on it, Isak thinks maybe _they_ have the bond.  They certainly seemed to be very connected and secure with each other.  But he knows he’s not slotting in there. It’s so different to what he felt at Even’s house yesterday that he can’t quite believe they’re all the same type.  Even is so much more attuned to Isak and what he thinks and wants. It seems even more likely to Isak after his research last night and his experience today, that he’s forming his own Outcast bond with Even and these girls are never going to be part of it.

 

When Isak gets home it’s to find Jonas at the kitchen table with Eskild, both chuckling happily together and neither noticing Isak’s presence for a few moments.  There’s the usual stab of alienation Isak feels when he sees Jonas having fun with someone else. It’s a jealousy that Isak has no right to, but which still burns in him.  The old crush still lingers, it seems, despite Isak not really feeling that way anymore. But it’s there in the sour feeling in the back of his throat when Jonas laughs with another guy, particularly one Isak knows is gay too.  He shakes the thought off immediately. Eskild is just a friendly person and he enjoys looking after others. Isak may be his current particular target, but everyone who comes into the kollectiv is a possible victim.

Isak clears his throat and walks into the room, trying not to cringe at the startled look on Jonas’ face as he turns towards Isak.  It almost seemed like guilt, with the way his eyes flickered up to Isak’s and then slid away as they widened. Then there’s Eskild.

“Halla, Baby Gay!  You’re home!”

“What?  Shut up, Eskild.  Why do you always say that?  You know that’s not …” he casts a quick glance at Jonas.  “You know that’s not a thing.”

He tries to inject warning into his voice but Eskild just laughs and jumps up to hug him.  

“Isak, you know I’m a joker, yes?”  Eskild turns to look at Jonas over Isak’s shoulder.  “Can you blame me for wanting to have this one on my team, so to speak?”  He heaves a sad sigh and pats Isak’s back. “It’s a pity he’s so resistant.”

Isak can hear Jonas’s awkward laughter as he squirms out of Eskild’s grip, and glares as he makes himself coffee.  Shrugging, Eskild sits down again to enjoy his own cup. He mouths ‘sorry” as Isak sits down himself, and then clearly makes an obvious attempt to change the subject.  Isak allows himself a small, acknowledging smile as he takes a sip.

“Jonas was just telling me about the first week of school.  He’s a little worried about you.”

Isak turns his glare on Jonas as he sets his cup down on the table.  Maybe this is where the guilt is coming from? Isak always jumps to _someone just told Jonas about me,_ but maybe in this instance he’s wrong.  There’s certainly a deeper, more definite guilt in Jonas’ expression now.  He raises his eyebrows.

“Sorry, bro.  But it’s true.  You’ve been so … so grumpy with everyone.”

“Oh, has he?” Eskild asks, a grin on his face.  “He’s been quite cheerful at home.”

Isak tries to kick him under the table, but only manages to hit the table’s leg.  He rubs the spot he’s just bruised while staring daggers at Eskild this time. He really doesn’t want Jonas to wonder why there’s a difference between school-Isak and home-Isak, because that can only lead to Even and a whole can of worms Isak doesn’t particularly want opened right now.

“I haven’t …” Isak starts, but then sighs.  “Okay, maybe I’m a little grumpy at school. It’s just that the principal is an asshole and he thinks I’m a shit student and it upset me, okay.”

Eskild’s teasing look turns sympathetic almost immediately and Jonas hums in surprise.  “Are you sure that’s what he said?” Jonas asks. “That seems very unprofessional.”

“Yes, Jonas, I’m sure.  He suggested I try for some scholarships.”  He holds his hands up as both guys open their mouths, probably to protest that’s the opposite of what Isak just said.  “Some _Outcast_ scholarships because I could probably maybe manage to get one of those, if I try really really hard, even if I have no hope of getting normal ones.”

“He said normal?”

“No, Eskild.  He said general, but that’s what he meant.”

“But Baby Gay; scholarships would be a great thing.  You could pay your rent sometimes and maybe buy some clothes so you don’t look like a homeless person.”

Isak sinks down in his chair, feeling like shit again.  Of course they don’t understand. No one ever offers things just for Fairy Godmothers or just for Wise Men.  They’re expected to compete on the same level as everyone else; they’re not told ‘oh you won’t measure up, so here’s a consolation prize’ even before they’ve entered the race.

“The thing is, that … that I feel like I’m never going to be good enough.  I’m only ever going to be decent for an Outcast; no-one will ever see past that.”

Jonas is shaking his head.  “You’re wrong, bro. None of us see you as just an Outcast.  You’re my best friend. You think that’s just from pity?”

Isak shrugs, feeling the tension still sitting in his body.  “Yeah. Maybe. Feels like there’s no other reason.”

Jonas snorts his disbelief and while it warms something small in Isak, he still can’t stop that feeling from persisting.  He doesn’t have anything to offer except a bit of sarcasm and a talent for getting them out of trouble by smooth talking.

“Isak,” Eskild says, reaching his hand out to touch Isak’s arm.  “You’re so much more than that. You’re grumpy and smelly and you’re terrible at paying your own way.  But you’re also kind and thoughtful and one of the smartest people I know.” He sits back and grins. “If you ask me, you should show that dickhead principal a thing or two and just win all the scholarships.  Outcast ones, general ones. Hell, maybe you should even try to win ones for other types.”

That draws a reluctant smile from Isak.  “That’s not how it works,” he says.”

“It’s how it should work.”

Isak can’t stop the small snigger that escapes him at that and Eskild beams his delight.  He pushes back from the table and says, “My work here is done. Now I can go and find some nice young thing on Grindr in peace.”

“TMI, Eskild!” Jonas says, grinning back and again Isak has that sour jealous feeling in the pit of his stomach.  He nods agreement, smiling because he’s not enough of an asshole to make Eskild feel bad about his Godmothering, then turns to Jonas himself.

“Fifa?”

“Fifa.”  Jonas nods, enthusiastically.

They’re halfway through their first game before Jonas says, “are you sure that the scholarship thing is all that’s wrong?”

His eyes are fixed on the screen but the tension in his body and the careful, deliberate way he’s said every word suggest that he’s very invested in whatever Isak says.

“Yeah I’m sure.”

“Mmmm, okay,” Jonas says.  His voice is casual and light but there’s a strain behind the words and Isak cringes.  He can tell he’s driving a wedge between them. Jonas puts his controller down suddenly and turns to Isak.  “It’s just that you seem so down all the time and the scholarship thing is a bummer, sure, but it seems like it’s more than that.”

“Fucking Wise Men,” Isak mutters to himself.  

Jonas pushes him with his shoulder.   _“Is_ there something?”

He knows, Isak can feel it.  Jonas knows, but he’s not pushing; he’s giving Isak the choice.  Isak feels like he’s teetering on the edge of a precipice. He could give in right now and blurt it all out to Jonas.  It’s not like he hasn’t been thinking about exactly that for days, maybe weeks. But the terror of falling and finding out that everything’s a lie and this whole friendship is based on a flimsy foundation that fails as soon as Isak reveals his true self … well, that terror is hard to push past.

“Isak,” Jonas says, watching him carefully, tracing the lines of tension in his face until Isak has to look away, afraid that he’s showing it all in his expression.  “Isak, if it’s what I think it is, it’s okay.”

Isak licks his lips, raises his scared eyes to Jonas’ and whispers, “what … what do you think it is?”  

“I think you know,” Jonas says gently, and Isak can’t help it.  He nods, a lump forming in his throat and traitorous tears welling in his eyes.  Furious with himself, he turns away and blinks so the tears, at least, disappear.  He takes a deep, shuddering breath, and forces himself to look at Jonas.

“What … what do you think.  About it?” _About me,_ he means, but never says because he’s terrified that Jonas’ answer will break him.

“I think you’re really brave to tell me, and I think it’s great.”

Letting out a shuddering sigh, Isak lets himself smile.  It’s weak, and he can feel it slipping uneasily on his face.  “Thanks, Jonas.”

Jonas smirks over at Isak, nudging him with his shoulder again.  “I can’t believe you’re a serial killer and you weren’t going to tell me,” he says.

Isak snorts.  “Asshole,” he mutters.  But his heart feels lighter, and he can feel the small, genuine smile blooming on his face.

“When did you know?” Jonas asks more seriously as he picks up his controller again.

Isak imitates him, fiddling with his own controller as Jonas restarts the game, and shrugs.  “I dunno. I think I always knew, somehow. I just … just didn’t want to say it.”

Jonas smiles and turns to the game, and neither of them feels the need to talk any further.  They play for a while in silence, but Isak’s chest isn’t feeling quite so squeezed tight and his breath is coming much easier now.  Eventually he slides his eyes to the side and takes in Jonas’ profile. He looks so calm and at ease, as if nothing out of the ordinary has even happened and Isak feels affection swelling in his heart.  

“I think I met someone,” he says when he turns his gaze back to the TV.  He can’t bring himself to say this while looking Jonas in the eye; it’s too big a confession, even after what he’s already said. “A guy.”

Isak can feel Jonas’ eyes on his face now, but there’s no sense that there’s an issue there, so Isak looks over again.  Jonas is smiling and he nods as if he gets it.

“What’s his name?”

“Even.”

Just saying it out loud makes Isak’s chest lighter and he can feel the smile on his face again.   _Even_.  Saying it out loud makes it real, solid in a way it hadn’t felt before and Isak blushes.

“How do you know him?”

There’s something so bizarre in being able to do this.  That Isak can actually talk to his best friend about a guy he likes and it can be this normal.  It feels weird, but good. Like a wall that has been between them has been dragged down, and they can see each other more clearly now.  He smiles again.

“He’s a transfer, from Bakka.  Third year.”

“And you met already?”

Laughing, Isak nods.  “I do have some game, you know,” he says and Jonas shoves him again as he snorts.

“Could’ve fooled me.  What was all that with Emma then?”

Isak sighs, irritated memories rising.  He wishes now that he’d taken this step earlier, told Jonas before that damn party and never forced himself to hook up with her.  Even so; the suggestion that he didn’t have game before rankles. “She liked it!” he claims defensively. “Got me a group meet today, and all.”

“So that’s where you were?  I did wonder, since it was early for you to be up.”

This is how it’s always been: teasing and banter and Isak feels himself relaxing into the situation.  It’s weird to be like this, but it’s also really good.

“Fuck you, asshole.  I was meeting with some other Outcasts.”

Jonas’ eyes light up and he grins.  “As in … _bonding_ meeting up with them?”

The emphasis is obvious, as is Jonas’ eager desire to see this Outcast bond in action.  It takes some of the joy out of having admitted his secrets to Jonas. Unable to face the truth, which is that Isak would rather spend time with his _father_ than those girls, he shrugs again and smiles, the soft smile he’s coming to associate with Even.  “I don’t know. But I think … I think Even’s an Outcast, and I think a bonding might be happening with him.”

“That’s really cool,” Jonas says.  

There’s a warm sincerity in his voice and his eyes as they smile at Isak are kind.  He gets the feeling that Jonas probably knows how Isak used to feel. He knows he finds it hard to hide his thoughts, and no matter how hard he’s tried to cultivate a stoic, expressionless face, Isak feels that Jonas can always see through it.  He has a double dose of it: having known Isak for so long and being a Wise Man. There was a time when Isak would have died at the idea that Jonas might be able to tell, but now that his infatuation has mostly burnt out and left just a tinge of friend-related jealousy behind it, Isak finds that he doesn’t care.  He just smiles at Jonas again and thinks of Even. Remembers what it was like to be with someone who was so attuned to him that he felt known for the first time in what was probably years.

“I’m glad you’re getting a circle, Isak,” Jonas adds.  “It’s all I’ve wanted for you … that you find a space where you feel okay in your skin.”

“I think I’m finding it,” Isak says before tossing his controller on the ground.  He feels that uncomfortable itching at the back of his neck again, the one which makes him feel like he’s revealing too much, so he grins over at Jonas and says, “I feel like some kebab.  You want to come?”

Jonas, bless him, just nods and stands up.  Isak can tell he’s curious about the sudden change in atmosphere and conversation, but he leaves it and Isak breathes a sigh of relief.  He’s done the most important part; he’s told Jonas about Even. The rest … well, the rest can wait until this nebulous whatever-it-is developing between him and Even has solidified and taken proper shape.  Until then, it’s all too fragile and Isak’s scared he’s going to ruin the whole thing if he lets anyone else in too close.

 

On Monday at school, Isak’s body is humming.  He’s still irritated whenever he lets himself think about the school and its attitudes to him, but overarching all of that is the knowledge that if he gets lucky, he might see Even today.  He’s often around in the hallways and Isak is on edge hoping to see him at every turn. That knowledge sings through him and makes him smile more than he usually does, even though he goes through several hours of the day without seeing Even anywhere.  People give him odd looks when he grins at them, which inevitably makes him glower at them whenever he notices. That’s usually enough for them to shrug and move on since he’s back to acting like himself again. But whenever the person fades into the distance, there the smile is again.  It would be infuriating if Isak wasn’t just a little bit desperate to allow himself this one small thing.

He’s about to turn a corner to get to his English class when he collides with someone with a solid thud.  Isak bites back a snarled comment to _watch where you’re fucking going_ when he sees who it is.  Instead, his body relaxes and he finds himself grinning.  

“Hey,” Even says, and there’s something in that voice that sends thrills down to Isak’s toes and makes him blush.  He’s somehow forgotten in the passage of two days just how devastating Even’s presence is. He’s so _pretty,_ and his casual, effortless grace makes Isak feel simultaneously bedraggled and disheveled and also somehow treasured.  It’s the look in Even’s eyes, Isak decides as he shivers under the weight of his stare. It makes Isak feel so safe, because it makes him feel like he’s cared about, noticed and found worthy.  It’s a lot to take in in this dingy hallway in between classes, but he manages to bumble his way through a short conversation, which somehow infuriatingly drifts to Even’s mother and her reactions on Friday, rather than something … you know, interesting and possibly sexy.  Something that lives up to Even’s coolness. In desperation, Isak finally lands on something he thinks might be interesting.

“That was some good weed,” he says, allowing himself to smile at Even.  A smile’s not going to hurt, right? People smile at friends all the time and if this happens to be a friend Isak wants to do other things to, well … other people won’t necessarily notice.  He takes the chance and is rewarded by a devastating smile of Even’s own.

Even laughs, the sound so alive in the dull hallway they’re standing in that Isak has to close his eyes to compose himself.  He needs to get a grip or else Even’s going to think he’s some weirdo and never want anything else to do with him. By the time he opens his eyes again, Even’s talking.

“I have more.  If … if you wanted to come over again sometime.”

There’s something in his voice that makes Isak strangely bold.  It’s something that says that Even’s having as much trouble navigating this as Isak is, that Even is just as confused and wary and afraid, and it gives Isak confidence.

“It might be better somewhere other than your house, though,” he says.  He’s finding it hard to contain the joy that he feels in every inch of his body at the knowledge that Even wants to spend more time with him too.  That this hasn’t been his imagination. He drags his gaze away from the intensity and mutters, “don’t want to push your mother too far,” because mentioning her might cover this as a casual suggestion if Even isn’t into it too.

Looking back at Even, because he can’t keep his eyes away, Isak watches as his face goes through a series of expressions that seem to veer from delight to what might even possibly be awe, though Isak has no idea where _that_ one might have come from.  Even looks suddenly nervous as he says, “we could go somewhere else, then.  A park or something, I mean.”

It takes every ounce of his newfound boldness for Isak to suggest his own place and he relaxes a little as he sees the delight on Even’s face.  There’s some other inconsequential stuff as they work out what day and time, and through it all Isak doesn’t ever want to leave, doesn’t want to move away from this nondescript hallway in the middle of a school.  The conversation is banal and silly, just making arrangements to hang out, but it _feels_ weighty and significant.  The idea of going to class after this is ridiculous, so the bell’s shrill scream in his ear is an unwelcome intrusion.  

Isak startles, forcing himself to drag his attention away from Even’s face.  It takes several moments before Isak realizes someone is saying his name, the tone of his voice irritated frustration.  Isak’s head snaps around and he blushes, hoping he hadn’t looked as enamored as he felt while staring at Even and tuning out the world.  

“Oh hey, Jonas,” Isak says, clearing his throat and trying to look casual.  He knows what’s likely about to come and is internally hoping that Jonas will be chill.  “This is Even.”

Jonas spins so fast to look at him that Isak thinks he could probably have broken a speed record.   _No chill, then,_ he sighs internally, as he grimaces.  He chances a look at Even who’s looking at Jonas appraisingly and almost as if he’s scared of him.  Jonas, for his part, is playing the role of ‘scary older brother’ and making his wariness of Even obvious.  

Jonas turns back to Isak, who has to drag his attention away from Even to focus.  He’s fairly sure his answer to Jonas’s “Ready?” is terrible, and that Even will be able to see right through his awkwardness right now.

To deflect, Isak rolls his eyes at his friend, and leaves with Jonas to get to class, but he can’t resist turning to look behind him to see if Even is still watching.  He is, and the sight gives Isak such a thrill that he can’t help the grin that spreads over his face as he nods acknowledgement, then laughs out loud as Even silently tilts his sunglasses in a salute.

“Sooooo …” he says once they’re safely far enough away.  “What do you think?”

“I think he seems okay, and he’s definitely into you.  But …” Jonas stops talking, clearly taking his time to consider his words before he says them.  His hesitation sets something tense rocketing inside Isak and everywhere that tension touches tautens as he waits for Jonas to finish his thought.  By the time he actually speaks, Isak is so wound up he’s worried he might explode at a single touch. “I don’t think he’s an Outcast,” Jonas finishes, eventually.

The words stop Isak in his tracks, and the tension skyrockets.  That can’t possibly be true. What about the bond, what about the conversations they’ve had?  What about the fact that Isak even said it and Even didn’t deny it?

“What?  Why?”

“I don’t know.  There’s something about him that seems a bit off, a bit odd.”

Isak’s gaping after Jonas as he moves on.  “Isn’t that kind of the point of Outcasts?” he asks when he catches up again.  None of this makes any sense to Isak. Even acts and reacts exactly the way Outcasts usually do.  He hasn’t really slotted into the school and its groups, clearly preferring to remain on the margins, outside it all.  That’s like … textbook Outcast.

“Mmmmm, I guess so,” Jonas says, his hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets and his eyes firmly on the ground as if he’s trying not to look at Isak.  “It’s just … different somehow. It’s not like you or Emma or the others I know.” He looks over at Isak and grins with a wink. “Just, be careful okay, bro.”

There’s a slight hint of amusement in Jonas’ voice, as if Isak liking a guy and thinking he’s another Outcast is funny.  As if Isak is funny because he’s thought something and Jonas thinks he’s wrong. There’s no real sense that he cares about Isak and how Isak feels, despite the last few words.  Or even because of them. _Be careful._  That’s a fucking joke.   Jonas’ words send shivers of ice through Isak and he wants to lash out, to send that fear somewhere else so he can hold onto the hope and the want and the _need_ he feels when he’s with Even.  So Isak’s simmering with anger now, a reaction to the sudden shock of fear that hit when he was told Even might not be an Outcast.  That anger has boiled up so unexpectedly that it’s almost terrifying; it’s so much like his mother that Isak shudders. Still. He feels like he has a right to be angry right now.  What the fuck does Jonas know? It’s like Fifa all over again, like the day in the cafeteria. Like Isak is here just for entertainment and this is all just a joke.

Whatever; Isak likes Even and he’s not going to stop just because Jonas thinks he knows everything.  Fuming, Isak stalks into class. Why does Jonas have to ruin this for him? Here Isak is, with the one thing that was going okay with his life and Jonas is trampling all over it.  It’s not fucking fair. Isak ignores Jonas for the entire lesson, knowing it’s petty even as he does so. But Jonas just shrugs and talks to the person on his other side. As if Isak being pissed at him means nothing.  As if Isak himself is nothing. Fucking typical. _Fucking chill asshole Wise Man,_ Isak sneers to himself.  He turns to his work; at least if he doesn’t have Jonas distracting him he might get something done.

The sour mood that Jonas’ comments gave him lasts for the rest of the day, but Isak also can’t help but thrill at the memory of Even’s eyes as they agreed on a date.  It was meant as a date, right? It definitely feels like it’s supposed to be a date. _He’s definitely into you._  The only part of Jonas’ pep talk that feels any good does sustain Isak.  Outcast or not, if Jonas can see it, then _that_ at least must be true and Isak allows himself the worm of hope.

That hope sustains him through the day until he faces up to what he has to do that evening.  It’s been so long, that Isak knows he has to go to see his mother. He’d agreed by text a couple of days ago, and usually at this point he makes up some excuse and then avoids the actual visit.  But today he can’t deny her any longer.

_I look forward to your visit Isak.  The Lord smiles on us today._

The text arrives just before the end of the school day, punctuating the knowledge that he has to go through with it this time, and Isak groans as he stares at the words.  He’s been too avoidant for too long. And maybe he’s reading too much into what she’s written, but it seems like there’s something hidden behind the words, a sadness and a loneliness that Isak knows too well.

 

“Hei, Mamma,” Isak says, as he steps into the house a few hours later.  He keeps his tone as cheerful as he can, his voice light and easy. He always feels uncomfortable when he comes here.  His shoulders hunch and he goes into what he’s come to realize is ‘fight or flight’ mode. Having something scientific to hang this all on is great; it makes Isak feel better to understand why he feels the way he does.  Studying science has helped Isak deal with a lot over the last year or so and he’s come to rely on it to help him make sense of his often nonsensical world. That his mother’s descent into almost-perpetual rage was the catalyst makes him feel uneasy.  As if it’s not right to get so much comfort out of something that was caused by so much pain. But he can’t help that his interest in science was, at least in part, inspired by a desire to understand his mother and his own reactions to her.

Isak grimaces as he kicks his shoes off; knowing the science doesn’t change the fact that every moment he’s in this house with his mother he’s waiting on eggshells for the conversation to go bad.  For her beastliness to surface and for her to try to attack him. It doesn’t always happen, but the days when it has are seared into Isak’s memory. The screams and yells, the thrown objects and the exhausted crying afterwards when she realizes what she’s done.  They have all combined into a cocktail of memories that often leave him breathless and crying, unable to sleep for fear they’ll haunt his dreams too.

He sighs, drags the smile onto his face, and takes a deep breath, preparing himself for the next half hour.  He can do this. He has done it, many times, in the past. The mask he wears so consciously slips on and Isak is able to relax his shoulders and morph himself into some semblance of a loving, dutiful son.

“Isak,” his mother calls from the kitchen as he puts his shoes alongside hers in a neat line.  “You’re late.”

“I know, mamma.  I’m sorry,” he calls back again, as he slings his school bag onto the hook by the front door and makes his way through to her.  He gives her a brief peck on her cheek, then sits down at the seat across the table from her. There’s a cup of coffee on the table in front of her and he sighs internally, stifles the grimace he wants to make.  Isak knows he can’t get one for himself because the reminder that she forgot about him could potentially trigger a rage. It’s the little things that get him. The way he has to watch every tiny thing he does just in case she gets upset.  It’s not her fault, he knows, that she can’t control the rages when they occur; it’s his asshole father’s for leaving her with no Beauty, and a small son to look after. Knowing that doesn’t help though, not when Isak has had to become so used to helping her control them.  Not when he’s not good at it, unable to truly mimic the effects of a Beauty.

“It’s okay,” she says, beaming at him.  “You’re here now. Will you stay for dinner?”

His heart sinking, Isak nods.  He knows he has to; he’s made so many excuses for not eating with her over the last few weeks and her stress about that is starting to bleed over into the texts she’s sent him and the Bible verses she’s chosen to share.

“Sure, Mamma.  That sounds great,” he says.

“Wonderful.”  She claps her hands and grins at him.  “I’ve been cooking your favorite.”

Smiling almost naturally now, Isak says, “I thought I could smell something delicious when I walked in.”

Her answering smile makes something crack inside his chest, and he feels like an asshole for how careful he’s forced to be around her.  Just once, Isak wishes he could share everything with her, and truly be himself. But he can’t. So he buries all his worries and issues, and smiles softly at her while she babbles about her week and the volunteer work she’s been doing at a local home for stressed and broken people.  Those who have either lost their archetype pair-mate or who never found someone compatible. Those who have been ostracized or abused for their types. It hardens Isak’s heart further against the whole system. He doesn’t want to find another Outcast, if this is what the outcome so inevitably is.

It’s not long before Isak realizes that his mother’s in one of her more playful moods.  Her gossip and bright eyes, the over-loud laughing. It’s all part of the childish side of being a Beast.  Isak sighs, lets his breath out in relief, and grins at her. He can relax a little, since this side rarely turns ugly without a large provocation.  She puts some music on and holds her hand out to him.

“Nei, Mamma.  You know I can’t dance.”

“Isak.  My darling child.”  She laughs, spinning around and around until she’s dizzy and stumbles.  “Isak,” she gets out on a puffed breath, “it’s just us here. Come dance with your mamma, and make an old lady happy for once.”

She holds her hand out, and Isak can’t resist that look in her eyes anyway.  He lets himself relax a little more, and stands to take the hand. Laughing, he holds it up as she twirls under his arm.

“You’re not old, Mamma,” he says as she spins out and then back into him.  “Just well preserved.”

She stills, in the middle of a twirl, and turns to glare at him.  Isak can feel the grin sliding off his face and the wary anxiety that chases it.  She growls, low in her throat, and he stiffens. Her beastly rages always start this way, and it’s touch and go whether she can pull herself back at this point or not.  He squeezes her hand, trying to get her to focus on the dancing and the joy she’s been feeling.

It works, in a way.  In that she takes a deep breath, smiles at him, and drops his hand.  She walks to the oven and pulls out the casserole she’s been making.

“I think it’s time to eat,” she says as she plonks the dish in the middle of the table.  There’s strain around her eyes, but the smile is soft and real. Isak breathes a sigh of relief, and makes sure to keep the conversation on easy, non-controversial subjects until it’s time to collect his gear and leave.  

He leans against the wall outside the building after he’s shut the door behind him.  It takes time, after, for his adrenalin levels to drop and his body to stop reacting.  He always manages to keep himself calm while he’s with her; he learned the hard way that firing up himself just made it all worse.  But now, afterwards, Isak’s hands are shaking and his breath is coming in huge gasps.

He hates this, hates that being around his own mother is so hard.  The memory of that growl, and the flash of fear on her face as she fought to keep the rage down, remains with Isak.  He desperately wants to do something to help her. If he can study harder this year, if he can get one of those scholarships, even the Outcast ones, then maybe he can find some way to help her, to settle her rages.  She’s not happy, Isak knows, but there’s no known way to help a Beast who’s this far gone. But if he could help … well, he might be able to forge a better relationship with her. And that’s all Isak wants, all he’s ever wanted: to fit in, to feel safe and loved and connected.  If he can’t find that with his own family, how can he possibly think he can have it with someone else?

 

After spending time with his mother, Isak finds himself with a renewed focus on his studies.  He regrets every choice he made last year. Regrets that he decided to spend so much time partying and trying to hook up with girls rather than actually working.  He grits his teeth and forces himself to stop thinking about the past. The important part here is the future. The important part is to study as hard as he can and to get one of those scholarships.

He’s in the library on Wednesday, with his books spread around him, and a dull thud throbbing behind his forehead.  It’s Biology, and theoretically this should be easy; Isak’s _good_ at this one.  This is the subject he excels in almost without trying.  And yet here he is. The book in front of him makes no sense, and the words are swimming on the page.  Isak knows he knows this stuff, too; that’s the most frustrating part. This is just a review of last week’s work, which in turn was reviewing the end of last year.  It’s easy. Theoretically.

“Hey loser,” Sana says as she throws her bag down on the table next to Isak’s computer, making him startle.

“Fuck!  Sana! Don’t scare me like that.”

“You look like someone who’s failing Biology.”

Isak scowls at her.  He knows she’s just teasing, knows this is just who Sana is.  She’s brash and she’s blunt and she doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks.  The problem is that her jibes sometimes stab a little too close to home and then Isak gets defensive.  His shoulders hunch and he groans.

“It’s too early to fail.  Anyway, I can’t.” He lets himself look into her eyes and is shocked to see some sympathy there.  “I have to get top marks so I can get the scholarship. So I can …”

“So you can?”  Her voice is gentle, and if Isak wasn’t sure that Sana doesn’t care about anyone much, he’d even think she was genuinely concerned for him.  But she isn’t, she can’t be. This is all part of her Seer trickery. The more you tell her, the more she can piece together and the more mysterious and all-knowing she can appear.  So Isak hums, forcing his shoulders to relax, feeling the muscles unknot one by one as he wills them.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says.  “I just want to be the best. Can’t have you beating me.”

His cocky grin slides on with practised ease and she looks at him in a considering way before shaking her head and letting out an exasperated huff.

“You look like shit,” she says as she pulls her books and computer out of her bag.  “This stuff shouldn’t be hard.”

“It’s not _hard,”_ Isak snaps.  “I’m just a bit … a bit tired.”  He grins at her again, the expression practised and easy on his face.  “That’s all.” He cocks his head in an attempt to charm her, allowing the smile to widen and his eyes to brighten.

“Mmmmm,” she says, but she doesn’t look convinced.  

They spend the next two hours arguing over almost every question, and Isak almost throws his computer on the ground in frustration when she won’t listen to him.  Sure, he’d been having trouble with all this shit when she arrived but after talking it through it’s now all lined up in his head. He knows it; it genuinely wasn’t difficult and the fact that she’s so set on her own interpretation is making him furious.

“No, it’s recessive,” he says.  He can hear the force in his voice, and he grimaces.  But he can’t let it go. “The dominant parents gave the recessive gene.  See.” He points at the row of boxes on the example. It’s clear as day to him, but Sana is still scowling at it.

“But they can’t have,” she says.  “Look, back here …” she points up a few rows on the chart.  “There’s no way that can have come down the way it did if it’s recessive.”

Sighing, almost growling, Isak pulls the computer towards himself.  “No, look--” he starts but he’s interrupted by a cheerful voice.

“Halla, Isak.  Hard at work?”

Emma has appeared next to them while Isak was in the throes of trying not to strangle Sana, and he has to work hard to stifle the groan he wants to let out when she appears.

“Um.  Something like that.  Hei, Emma.”

Isak can hear the disinterest in his voice, but he prays the others can’t.  Sana looks at him with a knowing smirk and a slight hint of confusion. So he steps up his game, slips on his charming smile and makes sure to look deep into Emma’s eyes.  She flushes and looks down.

“I was thinking,” she says when she gets herself under control.  Isak would find this hilarious if she wasn’t so obvious in her attempts to coerce him into everything she does.  His smile grows stiff on his face. This is probably not going to be good. “I was thinking,” she says again, clearing her throat and sounding more confident.  “We should pregame at my place this weekend. There’s an Outcast party on near Mari’s apartment on Friday, and we could … go? Together?”

Faking a sadness he doesn’t feel, Isak gestures at the books spread in front of him.  “I can’t, Emma,” he says. “I have to study. This shit is kicking my ass and now I’m behind in my other classes too.”  He smiles, trying to pour regret into his expression, not too successfully if the expressions on the faces of the others is anything to go by.  “Maybe another time.”

Emma’s face falls for a brief moment, but she recovers quickly.  Isak wonders for a fleeting moment how often she has to put on a practised mask as well.  Is the mask a hallmark of the Outcast? Isak’s not sure and he wants to ask Emma, but he knows she’s likely to take it the wrong way, and he can’t deal with that right now.  So he glances back at Sana, nodding at the work in front of her.

“Okay, then,” Emma says.  Her voice is still cheerful but there’s a slight wobble in it which belies her attempt to seem unphased.  “I’ll see you on Sunday instead, then.”

She walks away, leaving Isak gaping in her wake.  He never did agree to the weekly meetups, and yet here she is assuming he’ll be there.  He’ll just have to think of some way to avoid going. Maybe … maybe another visit to his mother.  He shrugs uncomfortably. Doesn’t want to do that, not even to get out of another of those tedious meetings with the Outcasts.

“You’re an asshole,” Sana says as she pulls the computer back towards herself to glare at the rows of genes again.  “Just tell her you’re not interested.”

“How do you know I’m not interested?”

The look she gives him could freeze fire, and he smiles at her in an attempt to deflect, pouring every ounce of his charm into it and tilting his head in a way he knows tends to please the girls.  She’s not taken in, even glowers at him when he tries to widen his grin, but apparently decides that she’s going to let him get away with it. Instead, she turns back to their argument and picks up where they left off as if there had been no interruption.

He’s exhausted, barely able to keep up with her rapid-fire explanations, and the yawns that keep splitting his face interrupt more and more frequently, even while he tries to force himself to concentrate again.  So it’s not long before she throws her hands up in resignation and starts shoving her things back into her bag.

“Go home.  Get some sleep,” she says.  “Then maybe when we do this again you’ll be able to see reason.”

Isak rolls his eyes.  Despite the exhaustion, he _knows_ he’s right.  But she’s right about one thing.  He does need to sleep. It’s been so elusive lately that getting even a few hours a night he deems a victory.  So he smiles at her, packs his own things and leaves without reminding her _again_ that she’s wrong and should go study some more.  Because he’s a kind and caring person like that.

 

Isak makes it through the next few days via a, probably toxic, combination of coffee and energy drinks.  His sleep patterns haven’t been getting any better and the caffeine is the only way he can force himself from one class to the next and into and out of his home.  His eyes ache, and Isak sometimes has trouble keeping them open when the teacher in front of him is particularly boring, or Eskild is particularly annoying with his demands for kollektiv bonding time.

The one thing that really sustains him, really makes him care about what’s happening in his life, is the thought of his Friday with Even.  Isak yearns, almost ridiculously, for the sense of peace he gets when he’s with Even. He tells himself it’s stupid, that he needs to chill, at least a little.  But it’s hard, when he sees Even across a courtyard or down a corridor and the flash of joy and desire sweeps over him. So he’s careful to keep a distance, to play it somewhat cool.  They’re meeting Friday, so Isak needs to not manufacture other meetings over the week. He can’t afford to let himself get in too deep, not when he doesn’t know how Even feels. Isak does it, even as it’s really hard to manage when all he wants is to hang out with Even and feel that sense of belonging again.  

So Isak waits, allowing thrumming anticipation to run through his veins whenever he spots Even around.  By Friday, the tension is sitting right under his skin. His mother’s texts have been more pointed than usual after the near-miss at dinner, and Isak hasn’t been feeling any more connected to his friends, though he thinks he’s managed to hide the distance he feels.  It’s all Isak can do to keep himself collected as the day wears on and his attention span slacks off. Thankfully, it seems like all students are suffering from the fatigue that sets in after the exciting first week is over, and the weeks ahead loom, and so his teachers don’t seem to notice that he isn’t as focused as he has been.

Isak comes out of school and hovers for a moment.  He can’t remember if he and Even had an agreed meeting place.  A loud burst of laughter explodes from beside him, and Isak startles, his heart hammering in his chest and a fear stabbing at him that someone somehow knows what he’s thinking and feeling about Even.  That decides it for him; he’ll start walking and circle back if he needs to. The idea of waiting boldy in the open while other people are around and could see him is too stressful for Isak. So he drops his head and puts on some music before he strides out and around the corner, trying to present as his usual confident self as he walks.

It’s only a few moments before Isak has an uneasy feeling that he’s being observed.  Remembering his earlier fear that he’d been noticed, that someone had guessed his secret, Isak looks up, and his eyes dart to the side.  Warm breath drifts over his neck making him shiver and spin around with a horrified fear that he’s been found out. When he looks into Even’s glorious blue eyes and his beautiful crinkly grin, Isak can’t help the, “faen!” that slips out.

“You absolute dick,” Isak says when he catches his breath again, his earlier fear lending a hint of petulance to the tone.  “How long were you there?”

Even shrugs.  “Long enough to know you look far too cute when listening to music.”

Isak can feel the blush that storms into his cheeks.  Even thinks he’s cute; it’s what he’s always hoped for.  That Even probably is into boys and maybe Isak in particular.  He can’t hold Even’s gaze; it’s too overwhelming, so Isak starts walking again instead, trying hard to still the frantic beating of his heart as he processes both the interruption and Even’s words.

“You ready?” Isak asks.  It’s the easiest thing he can think of to break the silence and keep his tension at a manageable level.  Even pats his bag and grins again, making Isak’s stomach flip over in startled admiration.

“Yep.  It’s all right here,” he says.

“You brought it to school with you?”  

“Of course.  Why not? They never check anyway, so there’s no bother.”

Isak can’t help the swell of adoration that hits him.  Even’s so confident, so collected and together. The idea of hiding weed in his bag for the whole day and not even being worried about it?  Isak can’t fathom it. He may have brought some to school himself once or twice, but he’s spent the entirety of those days in a cold sweat, desperate to get it away from him and handing it off as soon as he possibly could.  This all serves to make Even more attractive, and Isak can’t quite hide the way his gaze lingers as he admires him. Even seems oblivious, though, and Isak sighs in relief.

They remain mostly silent on the way back to his house; the peaceful calm punctuated only occasionally by brief observations of the outside world.  It’s so restful that Isak is almost sorry when they have to leave the tram and reenter the world of bustling people and snatches of music bursting from nearby apartment buildings.  It’s short, the walk to his building, and Isak find himself keen to get inside and away from the prying eyes of the outside world, away from that hustle and bustle. He wants to recapture that calm bubble.  He wants Even for his own, and doesn’t want to share. But Even, it seems, has other ideas.

He’s buzzing with energy, grinning in the way that Isak already knows he can’t resist,and Isak somehow finds himself _running_ , of all things.  Running through streets and down smaller alleyways.  By the time they pant to a stop in a small park, almost tucked far enough from other people that Isak is at ease.  Almost. Despite the moderately public places they’re in, Isak is laughing, and somehow laughing with Even has become Isak’s favorite thing to do.  Already.

“I am definitely not as fit as I thought I was,” Even mutters and Isak can’t help teasing him.  

“You’re certainly out of shape,” he says, feeling giggles erupting as Even pushes him hard enough to land him on the ground.

It’s easy to just make these comments with Even, not worrying about what he’s saying or what impression he’s making.  Just saying whatever random thing comes into his head.

“I’m in superstar shape, thank you.  I’m just ... “

Isak’s shaking his head, laughing as he resists Even’s attempts to justify himself.  He notices just before it happens that Even’s about to leap on him. His touch sends shockwaves through Isak’s body and he tenses as they wrestle, hoping Even doesn’t notice the way he reacts.  Hoping that Even’s reacting the same.

“Okay okay, fine!” Even says finally, his breath coming in short pants and his eyes sparkling in a way that does things to Isak’s body.  “You win.”

“You admit I’m right; that you’re horribly out of shape.”

“I didn’t say that …” Even starts, but then he groans and twists away laughing again, as Isak allows himself to tickle him; the innocent wrestle too good an excuse to touch that Isak can’t bring himself to pass it up.  “Okay! Yes! I’m out of shape.”

Somehow, they’re both now lying on the grass.  Their breath is still not even, and Isak is confused and horribly turned on by everything that has just happened.  He’s still not sure of Even’s feelings, despite that ‘cute’ comment from earlier. He’s trying to find something to say to cover for his feelings when Even drags his bag towards him and pulls out the weed.  Isak smiles. He should, probably, be concerned that every time they hang out there’s weed involved. He knows his mother wouldn’t approve. Hell, Jonas probably wouldn’t either. But it’s nice; it lends an extra layer to the peace between them.  Before long, Isak’s relaxed and feeling philosophical.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” Isak says as he stares up at the clouds above them.  “How big everything seems out there?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s like … like, there’s this plan the universe is supposed to have for us right?  We’re born a type and we’re stuck with that type forever, and it’s like we have no choice.”  He sighs, crossing his hands on top of his chest and turning his head to look at Even. He needs Even to understand this; it seems of utmost important right now.  “But, what if it doesn’t have to be that way? What if somewhere out there it’s different?”  

He looks up into the vast expanse of the sky above them.  There’s no end to the blue, no clouds, even, to marr the distance.  It makes Isak wish he could be out there, somewhere in space, where things are less complicated and he can be anything and anyone he wants to be.  He lets his voice drop to a whisper, almost not intending Even to hear it. “What if I don’t have to be an Outcast?”

“I get it,” Even says softly, and it sounds like he really does understand.  But his next words send a shaft of cold fear through Isak; there’s something so final and irrevocable in the tone he uses when he says them.  “The only way out is to die. You can’t escape your destiny any other way.”

“That’s so dark, though,” Isak says, shivering as he turns to his side to look at Even.  He feels the need to turn that around on him, to make things seem less grim maybe. “What if there is another way?  What if we don’t have to be stuck as Outcasts forever? Wouldn’t it be nice to, I dunno, be a Charming or even a Damsel?  Just something else.”

“A Beast,” Even says softly, and Isak can _feel_ his distaste on his face at the idea.  He thinks about his mother, and how horrible her life seems.  It doesn’t appear, from the outside, like it’s a life you’d choose if you could.  Isak certainly doesn’t like the thought and he says as much. That, of course, leads them to Mamma and her issues and Isak can hear the pain in his own voice as he says, “it doesn’t seem like a nice way to be.”  He cringes, hoping Even isn’t turned away from someone with a mother who’s so volatile and out of control.

Even, as always, is just interested and engaged.  He smiles, asks questions, draws Isak out and he finds himself talking about his recent life.  He thinks back to the other day, and he can’t quite keep the crack out of his voice when he talks about it.

“Mamma’s been … she’s so hard to live with.”  Isak pauses, tries to say this in as nice a way as he can.  He doesn’t hate Beasts, after all; it’s just … it’s so _hard_ with Mamma.  He sighs when he adds, “it’s always rages and aggression.  There’s no softness or fun. It’s not her fault, and I don’t blame her … but it’s not...” he hesitates for a moment, considering his next words, still trying to do her justice while not denying the depth of how he feels about all this, before he adds, “it doesn’t seem like a nice life for her.”

They’re silent for a few moments, both presumably in their own thoughts, before Even reaches out, takes Isak’s hand and squeezes it.  It could be the reassurance of a friend, but Isak thinks it’s more. Hopes it’s more. As he looks into Even’s eyes he can feel a deeper connection, and it helps.  A little. Thoughts of his mother fade, and he lets himself sigh as he squeezes back.

“I should go home,” he says, his voice regretful as he drops the contact.  “Eskild’s such a mother; he’ll worry if I don’t come for dinner.”

“Okay,” Even says, standing up and brushing the grass clippings off his pants before extending a hand to Isak.  “Can I walk you home?”

Isak grins at him, giddy.  His thoughts about his mother are all gone and in their wake is this childish glee that a cute boy, who he likes and who seems to possibly like him back, is holding his hand.   It feels too good for Isak to let go and so they walk like that, hands loosely connected, all the way back to Isak’s apartment. It’s darkening now, and the dimmer light makes Isak feel bold.  On any other day and in any other circumstance, he’d be too scared to hold hands like this. But it’s Even, and the contact is so casual, so unremarkable, that Isak doesn’t feel self conscious at all.  

He feels the tension simmering between them, but it’s the good sort.  The sort where Isak wants to take it further but doesn’t have the words to say it or the confidence to do it even if he had the words.  So all he does when they make it to his door is squeeze Even’s hand and smiles in what he’s sure is a ridiculously sappy way because he can’t quite keep this newfound feeling off his face.  Even smiles, as if he understands.

“Do you want to come over tomorrow?” he asks  “Maybe watch some movies?”

Swallowing the sudden fear that mixes with the elation he’s feeling, Isak nods.  He knows his face is red again but he has no way of controlling it right now.

“Yeah, I think I’d like that,” he says and the giddy feeling is back as he sees the blooming delight in Even’s eyes as he smiles again before dropping Isak’s hand  

“About seven?” Even asks.  “I’ll make popcorn.”

Isak bites his lip to try to prevent the giant grin that blooms on his face.  He nods just before he slips inside the door, willing his heart rate to slow down.  This meeting seems even more like a date than today’s one, and Isak lets himself grin giddily as he walks up the stairs.  Tomorrow, he’ll probably be nervous and overthink everything; Isak knows himself well enough to know that. But for right now, Isak’s going to let himself enjoy the memories of today.  Because today was somehow perfect even with the difficult conversation and the slight awkwardness as Isak tried to figure out what Even was thinking and feeling.

By 5pm on Saturday, as expected, Isak is a mess.  He doesn’t bother to work out if the mess is because he was expecting it, or if he’d be like this anyway.  He just lives with the mess fallout. His hands are shaking and he fumbles as he tries to do up the buttons on the shirt he’s chosen to wear.  He stops, lets out one shaky breath and moves to the bathroom on wobbly, uncooperative legs. Maybe a splash of cold water will help. He runs some water, letting it flow, cool, over his hands and wrists before splashing some up onto his face.  He stares at himself in the mirror for a long moment, wondering what there is in this face that someone like Even could possibly find interesting. Wondering if this is truly a date or if Even’s just a really good guy who is this friendly to everyone.

The thought sends a wave of anxiety through Isak, and he groans, closing his eyes so he doesn’t have to see his too-pale face and his too-big eyes, and his too-unruly hair.

“Baby Gay?  You need some help from a guru?”  Eskild’s voice is light and cheerful, an incongruous tone cutting into Isak’s anxious thoughts.  But he sighs and nods as he opens his eyes again to look in the mirror.

“If you must,” he calls back and a beaming Eskild bustles immediately through the door and leans so he can see Isak’s face in the mirror as well.

He shudders theatrically.  “Baby Gay, this is an outrage.  What are you doing to yourself?”

Isak looks again into the mirror, sees every blemish on his face, and the way his hair sits too big around his head.  The way his lips curl too thinly on his mouth, making him look slightly off, like a painting someone started and grew too tired of to finish.  He frowns.

“Fuck off, Eskild.  I already know I’m not good enough.  No need to rub it in.”

Eskild’s expression darkens, and he pats Isak on the back.  “I need to deal with that damn family of yours,” he mutters before smiling up at Isak in the mirror.  “Isak,” he says, his voice coaxing and warm. “You are a very pretty boy. I’ve already told you half my friends want …” He trails off, clearly noticing the disgusted horror on Isak’s face and the tense anxiety sitting behind it.  “Well, no matter. You _are_ good enough.  You just need a little bit of a helping hand.”

Isak tries again to do up the buttons on his shirt and again fumbles in the attempt, his hands still shaking uncontrollably.  He turns wide, desperate eyes to Eskild and shrugs. “I can’t do this,” he whispers.

Deftly buttoning Isak up himself, Eskild smiles at him.  “You _can_ do this.  You have done this.  Twice. This is no different.”

The anxious feeling is back, the one that says Isak isn’t good enough, that he never will be.  Not for someone like Even, someone bright and gorgeous and sparkling. Someone who’s kind and witty and intelligent.  Someone who is better, in every way, than Isak is.

“It’s night.  It’s … what if that means something?”

Eskild pats his cheek.  “Then, Baby Gay, it means something.  All you can do is take it as it comes.  But from what you’ve been saying, this Even likes you and he wants you.  So. Follow his lead and just have some fun.” He kisses Isak’s cheek and turns him to look in the mirror again.  “You see this? This is a boy who is very pretty, a boy who deserves everything. A boy who needs to go have some fun and stop over analyzing everything.”

Isak manages a laugh, a small, stilted one, but it’s a laugh nonetheless.  “Your guru talks are a bit over the top, Eskild.”

“Only for you.  When you believe it, I won’t have to say it.”  He drags a brush through Isak’s hair and grins as Isak tries to pull away.  “There. Now you’re at peak pretty. This Even won’t be able to resist.”

Surprisingly, Eskild’s pep talk has calmed some of Isak’s nerves.  He’s able to choke down his dinner, keeping his hands stable enough that he doesn’t drop any of it on his clothes.  That’s a minor miracle, if you ask Isak and he decides to think of _that_ as his omen for the evening.  Not dropping food, not dropping any of his awkward comments, not making a dick of himself.  That’s where this is going.

Despite his newfound confidence, Isak is again stressed by the time he’s let into Even’s house and sees his father hovering behind his shoulder.   Isak barely has a chance to register Even and the glorious smile he’s sporting, he’s too caught up in panicking about the conversation his father has started up.  Ice runs through him again as he realizes he might be expected to interact with adults, ones he doesn’t know. He tenses, feels the stiff smile crystallizing on his face, and despairs.  Jonas' words hover in the back of Isak's mind, and he wonders if the possibility that Even might not be an Outcast will affect how this evening is going to go.

It seems like, once again, Even gets exactly where Isak is coming from.  With one glance at Isak, Even’s suddenly a flurry of activity. As he speaks, he pushes Isak in front of him and safely past his father as he speaks.  

“Actually, Dad.  We’re thinking of watching a couple of movies.  Long ones. Should really get started.”

“Oh. Oh, I suppose so.  I’ll … uh. I’ll just go let Mamma know.”  Even’s father looks worried, concerned perhaps that they haven’t had a chance to interrogate Isak.  But Even’s obvious desire to get Isak away by himself has enabled Isak to regain some of his composure.  By the time Even’s father has reluctantly agreed to let them go, Isak is almost sniggering. Even’s hands on his back and the insistent pushing are really not subtle.   

Isak ends up in Even’s room, on the tiny couch that’s nestled by the foot of his bed, and by the time Even’s sitting next to him, Isak is feeling much more calm.  There’s something about actually being in Even’s company that relaxes him. Or maybe it’s the weed. They pass a joint or two back and forth between them, and every time their fingers brush Isak feels it as a bright flash of desire sitting right in his belly, lighting him up.   

Either way, Isak’s much less tense than he was before he got here.  He’s even able to manage some good natured banter about Even and his preference for pretentious movies with lots of good looking people in them.  Even’s laugh settles Isak’s nerves, and he lets himself relax completely.

They’re squashed together on a tiny couch, which is really nothing more than a glorified armchair.  But Isak doesn’t mind. The simmering tension from yesterday is back, and Isak can feel the solid warmth of Even’s body pressed against his own.  Alongside it is the knowledge that they are perfectly alone. Or so close that it’s the same thing; there are no people milling around in a park, not other students at school.  It’s just them, alone in a room. Even’s parents, safely down the hallway, fade to a mere prickle in the back of Isak’s mind. All that remains is the two of them, and their bodies, connected from shoulder to knee as they lean forward together to watch the small screen of Even’s laptop.  Its precarious position on Even’s knees means that Even is holding his legs tense, and that tension is communicating itself to Isak’s body as sexual in nature. It means Isak is flushed all over with desire, and that every time Even’s knee wobbles with the effort of keeping the computer upright, the resulting tremor in Isak’s leg sends jolts of desire right through his whole body.

It’s all he can do to keep his focus on the screen, and admiring Leo’s rather gorgeous blond hair as it flops enticingly all over the movie and his grin as it lights the screen up.  Leo’s many perfections keep Isak’s focus off Even, at least a little. It’s hard to be this close to Even, touching Even. Snuggling with him in all but name. So Isak forces himself to pay attention to the screen as a way of deflecting that knowledge, even just a little.  This whole thing feels big. It feels like he’s on a precipice and he could let himself go for it, but if he does then everything changes. Isak wants to let himself make a move; he’s almost certain Even won’t reject him. But he finds he can’t; it feels like too much.

When Even’s hand slips onto Isak’s leg, just above the knee, the warmth flooding him becomes a torrent and he sighs, closing his eyes and allowing himself a tiny smile.  Isak turns to look at Even, and his smile, a brief lifting of his lips in what looks like pure joy, allows Isak to relax completely. He gives in to what’s happening, letting his own hand slide on top of Even’s and squeezing it as their fingers tangle together.  The residual tension he’s been feeling seeps away as he hears Even’s gasp at his own touch. He smiles.

Isak’s head falls onto Even’s shoulder as he lets himself relax into being here.  It’s nice. More than nice. Being with Even feels right, feels like he’s supported and wanted and protected.  Isak can’t remember a time when he felt more like he fitted, that he had a connection. That he’s seen and known.  Understood and appreciated. That he isn’t judged. If this is what being with another Outcast is like, one with whom he has that bond, then Isak wonders why he was so against it in the past.  This is something close to bliss. All his fears and worries of earlier have disappeared, and all that’s left is Even.

The hand Even is holding is sending fiery surges of energy through Isak’s entire body as his thumb rubs gentle circles on Isak’s skin.  He’s so lit up, he thinks it’s a wonder Even hasn’t caught on fire himself. Or maybe he has, Isak thinks as he chances a look sideways at Even to find him looking him right in the eyes with such a naked expression of longing on his face that Isak’s breath catches in his throat.

Isak isn’t even sure who makes the first move, but suddenly their lips are pressed together between one breath and the next and it’s better than anything he’s ever been able to imagine.  They kiss slowly, for what seems like hours, and end up somehow with Isak lying straddled on top of Even on the tiny couch. It should be uncomfortable, but it’s not. Pressed to Even, with his hands in Even’s hair and his lips trailing over as much of Even’s mouth and jaw as he can reach, Isak feels like he might just be in heaven.

Even’s hands are all over his back, and even slide in under his shirt, making Isak shiver.  He can feel his dick, hard in his pants, and he groans with a need he’s never felt before. He adjusts his body, trying to get comfortable, and suddenly he can feel Even too.  Just as hard, just as needy. Even’s eyes are wide and his hair is disheveled, his lips are red and he’s biting on his lower lip as his eyes drop to stare at Isak’s. Feeling bold, because he’s done that; he’s made Even look like that, Isak drags his body up against Even’s.  The resulting moan and roll of Even’s own hips gives Isak the courage to do it again, and again, until their bodies are so firmly pressed together he has no idea where his ends and Even’s starts and his dick is aching with the need for some sort of release.

They’re kissing, too.  And every one is lighting a fire in Isak which is begging to be fanned into flame.  It’s heady and it’s intoxicating and it’s also fucking scary. Because Isak doesn’t know what he’s doing; he’s never had feelings like these before, and he’s not really sure how far he wants to take this, at least today.  As if he recognizes Isak’s dilemma, Even is suddenly shaking with laughter, a bubbling giggle against Isak’s lips.

Isak stiffens, staring down at Even in consternation before he too is overcome with giggles and has to bury his own face in Even’s neck.  There _is_ something ridiculous in the two of them being here together on this tiny couch in this way.  It feels freeing to laugh about it, too. Isak has a bad habit of getting too caught up in his own mind.  Too worried about appearances and how people are going to react to him. For him to be able to let go and acknowledge that it doesn’t have to be serious all the time … well, that’s a huge gift Even has given him and Isak is grateful.  

It’s not long before they’re both spent from the laughter, lying pressed together in comfort, Even’s arms wrapped around Isak and his body soft and pliant under his own.  Isak sighs, contented. This was just about the most perfect moment he can imagine having, and he doesn’t even want to move; wants to stay in this bubble forever.

“Hey Isak?” Even asks, and his voice is impossibly soft.

“Mmmm?”

“We should … or we could.  Um. Move to the bed?”

Isak finds himself moving restlessly, squirming with sudden anxiety.  It was one thing to have been maybe getting sexual in the heat of the moment.  It’s another thing entirely to walk to a bed ready to do it in cold blood. The thought sends an icy burst of anxiety right through Isak.  Even seems to pick up on Isak’s uncertainty, because he smiles gently.

“Not to do anything.”  

The disappointment Isak feels at those words surprises him, and he can feel the way his body tenses, trying not to show Even he’s unhappy that Even possibly doesn’t want him.  However, once again it seems like Even has jumped right onto the page with Isak.

“Or maybe we can cuddle.  It’s just, you have a fucking bony arm, it’s poking into my ribs, and I think my leg is dead.”

Isak laughs, feeling a surge of fondness for Even.  He somehow always knows exactly the right thing to say or do to make Isak feel like he’s not stupid, and that his desires are seen and heard and _shared._  “You’re so over-dramatic,” he says, sniggering and pressing a small kiss to Even’s lips just because he can’t resist the feelings sweeping through him.

Even gasps, making Isak’s snigger turn into a full-bellied laugh.  “I am not! I’m exactly the right amount of dramatic!”

“Alright then, Just Right boy, let’s go to the bed.”

Even laughs again, and Isak falls right into those beautiful eyes as he does so.  Despite his words, Isak kisses Even instead of moving to get off him, so it takes another several minutes and far too many kisses to count before they actually make it to the bed.  

The sheets are cool against Isak’s skin, making him shiver, and he feels safest wrapped up around Even.  He lets his leg hook over Even’s, unwilling to risk losing contact. Worried that he’ll wake the next morning to find it’s all been a figment of his imagination.  Worried that he’ll wake to find it wasn’t imaginary but that Even doesn’t want him anymore. He clutches Even tightly to himself and tries to stay awake but sleep soon overtakes him alongside Even’s whispered endearments.  If tonight is all Isak gets, he’s going to make the very most of it.


	3. Chapter 3

It’s warm.  That’s effectively all Isak can register as he blinks into wakefulness.  It’s a soft coziness which sits in his bones and he feels better rested than he has in a very long time.  It smells good here, too. Like peace and happiness, and … okay, Isak decides it’s about time he forces his eyes to actually open if he’s letting his thoughts drift along these paths.  He stretches, letting his body languidly get used to the day, and as he does so, his toes brush against another person’s toes and it all comes flooding back to him. He smiles, allows himself to press into Even’s warmth even further.  His leg is still wrapped around Even’s. Or again, maybe. Surely, even Isak didn’t stay in that one position all night. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is he’s here, in bed with Even, and everything seems to be going well for once.

Isak chances a look up towards Even’s face and what he sees stops his heart dead in his chest.  It’s so beautiful in sleep. His lips are parted, slightly curved as if he can’t help smiling even when he’s out to the world.  His hair is messy, tufts of it splayed out on the pillow like a halo, but other bits falling over his eyes or sticking up wildly.  But what arrests Isak most is the vulnerability his face displays as he sleeps. When awake, Even has a vitality and a charm that pours out of him and which Isak is helpless to resist.  In sleep, Even’s face becomes childlike, the fine bones ethereal, and he looks fragile. He looks like a harsh word could break him. Isak can feel his heart expand just looking at him. So he wriggles until he’s comfortable, carefully so as not to disturb Even.  Then he lies there, arms crossed on Even’s chest, and drinks in his sleeping features. It’s probably a bit creepy, but Isak is too happy to care. They kissed, Even definitely likes him back, and Isak can’t wait to see what else this new adventure brings.

Eventually, however, his bladder reminds him that he needs to get up urgently.  He sighs, tries to unwrap himself from Even as gently as he can, and pads out towards the hallway.  He exits the room, shuts the door carefully behind him, and then stops. He has no fucking clue how to get to the bathroom from here.  He should remember, but the directions are hazy in his memory, clouded as they were by weed and desire. He snorts at himself. No way out but through, and all that.

“Are you okay?” a voice asks from behind Isak, and he spins, letting out a small screech as he does so.

“I’m … uh.  I’m a bit lost?  I need the …”

“Bathroom?”  The woman, Even’s mother Isak remembers now he’s not panicking from the suddenness of her arrival, smiles at him.  “It’s just down there. First door around that corner.”

“Okay.  Um … thanks.”

Isak’s blushing, he can feel the heat in his body and he groans internally.

“When you’re done, come into the kitchen.  That ridiculous son of mine can sleep for hours and I’m sure you want some food.”

Isak would far rather go back to bed and snuggle into Even again, but there’s something in her tone that registers as a command and so he nods awkwardly and scuttles off towards the bathroom.  Once he’s done, he stares at himself in the mirror, tracing just _how_ awkward he looks.   _Oh well_ , Isak thinks morosely as he splashes water on his face, _this will be fodder for future jokes at least: remember that time I stayed over and had a super awkward run in with your mother in my boxers?_  

Speaking of which, Isak is absolutely not going out to the kitchen dressed, or rather not-dressed, like this.  So he makes his way back to Even’s room, and gazes longingly at his body on the bed. He’s curled up into a ball as if he misses the feel of Isak lying with him and is trying to recapture the warmth.  There’s something tender in Isak as he looks at him, and he yearns to just run his hands through that hair and wake him up with kisses. But he can’t. Even’s mother was kind, but she was firm and her meaning was clear.  She wants some time with Isak alone, without Even as a buffer. Even so, Isak can’t control the desire to press a kiss to his cheek. As he does so, Even’s lips lift in a smile and he mumbles something, shuffling in the bed as if making room for Isak. His heart squeezes as he looks at Even, and imagines all the mornings to come when they will be able to do just this and allow themselves these cuddles.

He drags his eyes away, acutely aware of Even’s mother waiting for him in the kitchen.  Swallowing hard, Isak takes a breath and makes his way back out through the house, following the clatter of dishes to find his way to the kitchen again.  It’s just as homely as he remembers it. Sparkling clean, despite the food preparation happening all over both counters, but with several small touches that show this is a home and not just a place to stay.  There’s a bowl with fruit, looking depleted as if people graze from it regularly, a scarf is tossed casually onto one surface, and a pile of magazines lies on another.

“Come in, don’t be shy.”  Even’s dad is smiling at Isak from the counter by the stovetop.  He’s mixing up something that looks like eggs from this distance and Isak’s stomach rumbles traitorously.

“Sit,” Even’s mother says, indicating the table with her head.  “I’ll get you some coffee. How do you like it?”

“Oh.  Uh … a little milk, thanks.”

Unused to this sort of behavior from parents, Isak doesn’t know how to act.  He slides onto the chair Even’s mother indicated and sits rigidly. He knows there’s going to be an interrogation, and he just wishes they’d get on with it.  His heart is thumping, there’s an anxious knot sitting in his belly, and he wants this done so he can go back to Even and forget all this. He gets his wish sooner rather than later, when Even’s mother sits in the chair opposite him and hands him one of the cups she’s holding.

“So,” she says, smiling at him again as he takes a sip and smiles as the warmth seeps into him.  “Isak, is it? It’s so nice that Even has found a new Beauty …”

She trails off because Isak’s face must register his confusion and horror.  “Beauty?” he asks, and it’s so shaky that he feels like he can’t breathe. He stares at her for several moments, probably too long.  But he’s trying to process. Because that means … that means ... “He’s a Beast?”

“Oh.”  She puts her cup down and looks horrified in her turn.  “He didn’t tell you?”

Numbly, Isak shakes his head.  “No. I thought … I thought …”

“Isak?” she asks carefully, as if she’s trying not to upset him.  Which is a fucking _joke._  “What type are you?”

“Out …” he manages, before the facade crumbles and he can’t stop his hands from shaking and his voice from cracking.  “Outcast.” His hands are so shaky now that he has to put the cup down to prevent it from spilling. It clatters on the table, the noise loud in the silence that follows his words.

“Oh, honey.”  Even’s mother’s voice seems to be coming from a long way away, and there’s now a weird roaring in Isak’s ears as she reaches out to pat his hand.  “Does Even know?”

Isak tries to pull his thoughts back from _Jonas was right, fuck; Jonas_ knew. _He warned me_ and the cold wave of panic that hits him as he lets that thought sink in _._ So, dragging his mind back to the present, Isak forces himself to look up from the table and into her eyes.  “Yes,” he says. “He’s known from the start.”

“I thought…” she stops for a moment, her head tilted in a way so reminiscent of Even’s that Isak almost loses it completely.  “I hoped, maybe, that he was going to be able to move on with you, so he could leave Sonja. You know that’s not working so well right now.”

Another stab of ice to Isak’s heart.  “Sonja?”

There’s more horrified compassion on her face.  Isak can read the truth on it before anyone has to say anything.

“His girlfriend,” Even’s father says.  

It’s the first thing he’s said since this bombshell hit and his words hit the hardest.  A girlfriend. Even has a fucking girlfriend, and he still kissed Isak. He still let Isak think there was something.  More than the betrayal about the Beast thing, this hurts. Isak has let himself be vulnerable. Again. And once again it’s slammed right back in his face.

“Girlfriend,” he repeats in a monotone.  He tries to stand up, but finds himself falling back into the seat because his legs are too wobbly to hold him up.  Isak wants to leave, to get out of here, away from these sympathetic and kind glances and away from Even. Who he definitely doesn’t want to see right now, and maybe not ever.  The very thought of him makes Isak’s throat close in pained anger.

So of course, that’s when Even appears at the door.  His hair is still tousled and he still looks so goddam beautiful Isak could cry.  Isak holds himself as stiff as he can, because he’s so close to letting the emotions pour out and he doesn’t want to be that guy.  He doesn’t want to be the one who cries because some asshole led him on and thought it was funny to play around outside his archetype.  Isak has some dignity, but it takes everything he has to hold onto it in this moment.

It’s painful to watch, Isak thinks as he sees Even walk in.  There’s a stiffness to his movements and a jerkiness to his smile that show he’s picked up on the tension in the room.   _Of course he has; he’s a Beast,_ Isak thinks.  Icy horror washes over him again.  A Beast. Like Mamma. Isak clenches his fists as tightly as he can, trying hard to keep his cool, to stay in control.  It’s bad enough that he’s been fooled; it would be a hundred times worse for Even to see how successful his joke has been.  He stares down at his fists, noting dispassionately the whiteness of the knuckles as they strain to press his fingers ever more firmly into the flesh of his palms, the only thing helping Isak retain his composure in this moment.  Anything’s better than looking at Even right now. One look into those eyes that he’s been starting to love … well, Isak’s not sure his composure would survive the onslaught.

“Hey,” Even says.  He smiles at his mother, and Isak can see the way he’s looking at him out of the corner of his eye.  He can’t help the movement he makes away from Even because every instinct he has screams at him to get closer, to enjoy those hands and those eyes and that smile.  But Isak can’t allow that. Even’s beauty can’t hide the lying and the trickery; it can’t disguise the pain that Isak is feeling right now.

There’s some slightly banal conversation between Even and his mother but there’s a clipped edge to their words, with Even’s voice cautious and fearful and his mother’s sharp and unkind.  It all makes Isak’s stress levels go up. He can tell that Even’s mother is on his side, that she thinks Even has behaved badly _(he has,_ his brain reminds him; _he has behaved terribly)_ and yet her support is almost making it worse.  The anxiety Isak can see in Even’s body even without looking at him properly is hard to bear, even considering everything.

Isak turns to look at Even square on, and the deep fear he can see on his face as he stares at the table as if it might solve all his problems twists Isak’s heart.  But at the same time, his stomach recoils as he feels a sharp stab of betrayal. It hurts, it hurts so much that Even hid this from him for so long.

“I promise,” Even says suddenly, addressing Isak for the first time since he entered the room.  “I was going to tell you, today.”

“Today?” Isak asks, and he can hear how small and tired his voice sounds.  Weak and pathetic. Isak needs to slam that particular side of him down. He needs to regain control of this, and fast.  Otherwise the unthinkable might happen and Even might see just how much this has affected him; he might see how easy it was to make Isak believe they had something.

“I swear, I really was.  Isak, please. You have to believe me.”

“I don’t, actually.” It’s angry now, his voice, and Isak almost lets out a breath of relief.  Anger is better than weakness, even if it’s quite frightening to swing so wildly between one feeling and the other.  This one at least lets Isak feel like he has some control. “You let me believe a lot of stuff that isn’t true so why should I trust you now?”  He sees Even open his mouth, probably to defend himself and the anger flares again, harder than ever. How can he think to defend this? To try to smooth over every lie he’s told?  “You have a fucking girlfriend, Even, and you never bothered to mention that.”

“I … she … it’s …”

“Even,”

His mother’s voice makes Isak jump.  He’s been so focused on Even that he’d almost forgotten she was here.  If he’s being truly honest, he wishes she weren’t. Her words aren’t helping and the fact that Even’s parents are witness to Isak’s humiliation just makes it that much worse.  “You need to be honest, right now. It’s important.”

“I know,” Even says, and his voice sounds regretful, submissive almost.  “But this is the truth.” He turns back to Isak. “I like you, a lot. A really _really_ scary lot.  But …” Even trails off for a moment, as if he doesn’t want to say this next part.  When he speaks, Isak can’t blame him; his words hurt more deeply than anything else he’s heard today, despite having heard them from others.  Hearing it from Even himself makes it worse. “But, I do have a girlfriend, even if it’s not working right now. And ... and I am a Beast.”

Even looks at him, and there’s a plea there, a desperate look begging for Isak to let it go and go back to what they had.  Isak’s body yearns towards Even’s; he wants to give in to it, to do what Even so clearly wants. But it doesn’t matter; Isak can’t let it matter.  Even has a girlfriend. He’s a Beast. And he lied to Isak about both.

“I wouldn’t have cared,” Isak says, horrified to hear himself on the verge of tears.  So he lets the anger out again; anger is safer. Anger can be waved away, it doesn’t have to mean your heart has been broken.  Not like tears. “All that talk, _fuck._  You even mentioned Beasts the other day.”

“You don’t care?”  Even looks hopeful, his eyes suddenly bright in his pale face.  Isak has to look away from all that painful hope if he’s to come out of this thing with any semblance of his pride intact.

“I didn’t say that.  I said I _wouldn’t_ have cared.  I do care, I care a shitload that you didn’t trust me with this.  You let me think you’re an Outcast too. Fuck. You let me kiss you thinking there was a chance, when you knew.  You knew all along. You let me spill my soul to you.” Isak has to stop, unable to carry on, unable to contain the tears that are threatening now.  He has to ask, because he has to know, even though it’ll hurt to hear the truth. “Was it funny? Did it make you feel cool to fool me?”

The tears are so close to the surface now and Isak is desperately doing whatever he can to keep them at bay.  He can’t allow himself to cry; he can’t let Even see just how badly he feels. He needs to protect his dignity; it’s all he has left.  So he stifles the quiver of his lips and he stares defiantly at Even, trying to will him to deny it.

“No.  Shit, Isak.  It wasn’t like that.  I just … I didn’t want to scare you off.”

Isak wants to laugh, a bitter thin thing with no mirth at all.  But he can’t; it’s too close to the dreaded tears so he falls back on his old standby.

“Well, guess what?” he asks, letting the sarcasm drip from his voice.  “Congratulations, you did. You did scare me off.” He feels the anger surging once more and lets it have free rein again.  Even needs to hear this; his wide, sad eyes and hopeful face need to know. He needs to see exactly what it is he’s done because Isak’s not really sure Even _gets_ it.  “You lied to me,” he adds, “about so much shit.  How can I even look at you now? I can’t trust you.  Fuck!!”

“Isak, please.”  Even’s voice is small and pitiful and something stirs in Isak.  He wants to forgive him, some small part of him still wants to go back to last night, wants to forget all this.  He wants to pretend there’s no girlfriend and that everything can be fine. Even must sense something of this turmoil because he reaches out his hand.  Isak pulls his own away as if burned.

“No.  Don’t touch me.”  He stands up. “Don’t come near me.  I need to get out of here.” He takes a breath, looks around and notices Even’s parents for the first time in several long minutes.  He blushes, feels the heat in his cheeks at the thought of what they’ve just heard and seen. Even’s mother looks pensive and grim, his father is staring open mouthed, his hands stilled on their work with the food.  Isak swallows, he forces his body to relax a little, takes a deep breath and smiles at them as naturally as he can. It’s not very natural, he can tell, by the way they are still staring at him. He smiles, as well as he can.  He can feel his body shutting down on him and he desperately needs to get away now. So he makes his excuses and practically runs out of the apartment. Out of Even’s life and away from everything Isak thought he was gaining when he came here last night.

Isak’s not sure how he gets home.  He’s miserable, all the anger having seeped away and left just a bone-weary sadness behind, which weights down his body and makes every step feel like an insurmountable effort.  The tram ride seems endless, as sunken in his own distress as he is. Even so, it ends too soon and Isak is forced to put one foot in front of the other all the way to his own apartment.  He pushes open the door, kicks off his shoes, and is greeted by a very delighted Eskild, who tries to draw him into a hug.

“Baby Gay!  You were out all night!  I’m so proud.”

His eagerness and excitement are the last thing Isak can deal with right now.  His misery finally tips over and he shakes his head, a lump in his throat and the tears already spilling.  He pulls out of Eskild’s arms before they’ve even fully enclosed him, pushes past him and practically runs to his room, desperate to keep the actual tears behind his own closed door.

He’s thankful, then, when Eskild doesn’t pursue him and he’s able to lean back against the door with his hands over his face as the tears finally fall.  It hurts. It hurts almost too much. Isak’s thankful that Even never did come into his home, that he doesn’t have to deal with the ghost of Even in this room.  It lets him have this time to himself, to grieve. Because that’s what he’s doing, Isak realizes. He’s grieving the loss of something he thought he could finally have.  He’s lost his concept of an Outcast bond, he’s lost Even as a source of peace, and he’s lost all the bliss of the memories from last night. All Isak feels is empty, like he has nothing anymore.

He knows that’s unfair, he knows he has his friends and his flatmates.  He knows he has his schoolwork and his health. He knows all that, and yet in this moment none of that feels like it matters.  All that matters is Even and everything he represented.

Isak lets his hands fall from his face, he takes a shuddering breath and shuffles over to the bed.  He doesn’t even bother removing his jeans, just falls into the warm comfort of the duvet and revels in the feel of the seams poking uncomfortably into his skin.  That discomfort at least reminds him that he exists, and the slight pain feels right, like a just punishment for letting himself think he could have something this good, for thinking that someone like Even would truly want _him._

A knock on the door startles Isak and he grunts.  It seems like that’s enough, because the door pushes open and Eskild pops his head around it to look at Isak.  His face twists in sympathy and he slips inside the room and carefully shuts the door behind him. A mug is steaming in his hands and he puts it gently down on the bookshelf by Isak’s bed before sitting down, pulling Isak into a sitting position and wrapping him in his arms.  This time Isak allows it, even reciprocates. He clutches Eskild’s back as if it’s a lifeline and buries his face in his neck.

“You want to talk about it?”

Isak shakes his head, feels the wobble of his lip as he contemplates talking.  Eskild pats his arm.

“Sometimes it helps to talk, Isak.  Even if it feels like it won’t.”

He looks at Isak expectantly.  Isak blinks and turns away, trying to hide everything he feels from Eskild.  He doesn’t want anyone else to see his shame, see how he was taken in by Even.  But it’s Eskild, and he’s been so good to Isak, and he wants to talk to someone, even if it hurts.  Having _someone_ here who knows why he’s shutting himself away in his room is also probably a good idea.

“He’s not …” Isak starts, then swallows again as the tears threaten.  “He’s … uh. He’s not an Outcast. And … and there’s a girlfriend.”

“Oh.”  Eskild looks at him with compassion and a dawning understanding of everything Isak isn’t saying.  “I’m sorry, Isak.”

“It’s not … it’s not like it was anything really,” Isak says, trying to make it all make sense.  “It’s just me being stupid.”

Eskild hugs him again.  “No, Isak. It’s _not._  It’s not stupid to hope; it’s not stupid to think the nice guy who’s spending time with you is into you.  Don’t … don’t let this put you off.”

Isak laughs, bitterly.  “The nice guy who was spending time with me didn’t exist.  He was just leading me on, having a laugh.”

But deep in his heart, Isak knows that’s unfair.  There was pure devastation on Even’s face when Isak made that particular accusation.  In hindsight, Even looked like he was just as affected by that conversation as Isak was.  Isak doesn’t want to allow himself to hope, but he can’t understand why Even did what he did if he really didn’t like Isak.  How could he have acted the way he did if he didn’t have any feelings at all? And there was that one comment by his mother, about the girlfriend.   _You know that’s not working so well right now._  So … maybe.  Maybe if Isak can get some sort of answer for that whole thing, he might get some peace back and he might be able to deal with this. He takes a deep breath and looks up at Eskild.

“Eskild?” he asks, and Eskild nods encouragingly.  “Why would he …” he blushes as he glances away. “Why would he … uh … want to … to kiss someone else if he has a girlfriend?”

“I don’t know,” Eskild says.  “Many guys, they experiment you know.  To see if their girlfriends are really what they want.  But some …” he stops and thinks for a few moments before nodding his satisfaction.  “Sometimes it’s true, and maybe …”

“Yeah,” Isak says, letting out a bitter sigh.  “But he lied about being a … about not being an Outcast, too.  So he was probably just experimenting. Right?”

The ice in Isak’s chest gives the lie to his bravado.  He’s trying so hard to act like this isn’t affecting him.  But it is. Every reminder that Even’s a Beast and he didn’t tell Isak is another twist of the knife and Isak can feel the tears building again.  Eskild is watching him, his eyes gentle, and he smiles. Pats Isak’s leg.

“I don’t know,” he says.  “But whatever it is, just know that we love you, Linn and I.  And we’re here for you.” He squeezes Isak’s arm and nods to the drink.  “Now, I’m going to leave you. But I want you to drink that and remember.  We _are_ here for you, whenever you need us.”

Isak swallows, feels the tears near the surface again, and nods.  “Okay, Eskild,” he whispers. “Thank you.”

Eskild gives him another soft smile as he closes the door behind him.  Isak lies back down, exhausted. None of this makes any sense. Unless Isak is really grasping at straws, then Even really was upset by the situation as well.  That has to mean something, surely? Isak lets out an aggrieved sigh. He needs to stop thinking like this. He needs to stop trying to find reasons to forgive Even.  Because Isak’s so pathetic that even though he _knows_ Even has lied to him and deceived him in the worst possible way, Isak can’t get the memories of last night out of his head.  He can’t let go of the way Even’s eyes crinkle when he smiles, he can’t stop cherishing the way Even made him feel so special, as if he meant something.

He takes one deep, shuddering breath and sits up again.  He wants his best friend, even more than Eskild. Jonas knows about Even, so Jonas … Jonas will be able to talk this through, maybe.  In his heart, Isak knows he’s been shitty to Jonas about all this. It was exactly this sort of heartbreak Jonas was trying to prevent when he told Isak he didn’t think Even was an Outcast.  Isak’s exhausted, wants nothing more than to be left alone, but he also craves someone to cry about this with. The worst is, he knows he doesn’t deserve Jonas’ help. Even so, he reaches for his phone, intending to send a message to his friend, but it goes off before he can open it.  Isak groans when he sees who it is. He ignores it, lets it ring itself out. But before long there’s the ping of an incoming message. Then another a few seconds later. By the time there have been ten of them, Isak turns the phone to silent so he doesn’t have to hear it. The doesn’t stop him seeing the words on the notifications as they flow in.

_We’re meeting today right Isak?_

_Mari and Lea really enjoyed last week_

_When are you coming?_

_Isak?  Stop being an asshole_

_You promised._

Isak groans.  He can’t take it; there’s no way he can make it through another meeting like the one last week.  Not when all he can think of is Even. Not when he feels like he could cry at any moment. Dragging his mask on, trying to pretend he’s interested in Emma when he just isn’t … Isak doesn’t have the energy for that.  Not today.

Even just thinking about it has depleted the tiny reserves he had when he intended to contact Jonas.  Isak doesn’t have it in him to start navigating that particular minefield. So he wraps himself up more firmly in his duvet and closes his eyes.  He doesn’t sleep, though. Much as he would love to, every time he tries the memory of Even’s kisses intrudes, the memory of the way they lay the last time he was sleeping stirs up unwilling feelings and Isak is thrown straight back into wakefulness.  

The time flows around him, and Isak just stares at the walls.  Thinking. Eskild pokes his head in again at lunchtime but Isak shakes his head when asked if he wants food.  The idea of eating makes him feel nauseous and he turns his back. He hears Eskild shuffle into the room and gather the cup he’d left earlier.  He hears the slightly worried, “humph” he makes when he sees it hasn’t been touched.

Then it’s blessed silence again, and Isak is allowed to wallow in peace.  His thoughts swing from the tender to the angry and back again as the day lengthens and turns to night.  There’s a beam of sunlight on the wall that makes its way down and across the floor as the day progresses.  Isak watches it as it moves, soothed a little by the predictable way it follows its preordained path. At least the world itself still makes sense.  At least the principles and ideas of science are still operational, day still follows night and the planet spins on its axis as usual. By the time it’s fully dark, Isak has cried his devastation into his pillow several more times, his anger has burned hot and he’s composed and rejected a million messages to Even, telling him exactly what he thinks of him.  He’s exhausted, but he still can’t sleep. His eyes fall shut for a few restless minutes of repose every so often before he startles himself awake again and the memories flow in.

 

Isak’s sleep pattern that night is so bad that by the time he makes it to school on Monday his head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton and his feet drag along behind him.  He’s keeping his eyes open with a superhuman effort and the addition of several cups of extra strength coffee and some energy drinks he buys on his way to school. Sana purses her lips when she sees him slide into his seat in Biology just moments before class is due to start.  But she thankfully leaves him in peace, merely rolling her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose when he says things he knows in hindsight are nonsensical.

Between classes, Isak walks with his head lowered and his eyes heavy.  He visits the bathroom quickly on a break and even he can see the dark smudges that ring his eyes and the pale set to his skin.  He grimaces. Tries to put on a cheerful smile to cover up his exhaustion and despair, but manages only to make himself look even more like a zombie.  The cool water he splashes on his face makes no difference to his energy level, and Isak leaves the room at least as tired as he entered it.

His thoughts are set on an exhausted whirl, trying to remember where he has to go and who he has to see, so Isak has no reserves left for things like seeing the people around him.  Really, it was only a matter of time before he ran into someone. It’s just a shame that the person he crashes into head-first, literally, is the one person he really doesn’t want to see.

“Fuck,” Isak says, but it’s almost not his own voice.  He feels like he’s floating, his head trying to catch up with his body as it recognizes Even’s.  His forehead stings, but Isak feels distanced from the pain as if it’s not even part of him. He reaches for his head in a daze as he looks into Even’s eyes.  The lost expression he sees there sends an inexplicable flash of fury through Isak and he just wants to get out of here as fast as he can. Nausea is threatening to overwhelm him, probably from the crack his head has received, and Isak just wants to sink into a cool seat in some classroom somewhere.  Dealing with Even and all the complicated feelings he dredges up is not on Isak’s agenda for today.

“Isak.  I --”

All the hurt and pain Isak has been feeling over the last day surges back and Isak can’t take it.  

“Don’t.  Don’t even try, Even.  I know this is all a fucking laugh to you, but for me --”

The idea that Even played with him, like it was funny, like he’s a joke, lends bitterness to Isak’s voice.  Even’s face changes, the mask he’s been wearing drops and misery floods it. He almost sounds desperate when he speaks.

“It was _never_ a laugh.  It was all sincere, all of it.”

Isak can feel the tug in his heart as he sees the agony in Even’s face.  Whatever is going on here, he doesn’t think it’s because Even was deliberately being an asshole.  He examines Even for a few long moments before he decides to ask the question that’s been burning in him ever since yesterday morning.  He doesn’t understand, and he really wants to. He needs to know _why._ Because if he knows why, maybe his brain will stop its constant litany of all the things that are wrong with Isak and all the reasons why someone like Even might want to take him for a ride.

“I don’t understand why.  You could have told me the truth.”

Even’s face goes through a complicated series of maneuvers as he takes Isak in.  Eventually, his shoulders sag and he shrugs.

“I’m sorry,” Even says softly, not answering the question, but addressing the deeper part of Isak’s misery.  “I should have told you.”

Isak blinks at him.  He can’t focus on anything; it’s a combination of the now-throbbing pain in his head and the lack of sleep.  Even so, he understands one thing. “You’re not arguing?”

“No,” Even says, and he _sounds_ really sincere.  The honesty in that voice is drawing Isak in again, but he’s trying to resist it, hard as it is while he’s this tired.  “I was wrong. I’ve been thinking about it all weekend, and I should have said something. I was scared, but that was just an excuse.  You deserved to know and I deserve to be yelled at. I’m an asshole, and I’m so sorry it was you who got affected by that.”

Isak shrugs, uncomfortable.  He’s tense, trying to both remain upright when his whole body is screaming at him to slump down and just sleep right where he is, and to remain unaffected by Even and the way he looks right now.  Which … who is Isak kidding? Even looks terrible, like he too hasn’t slept, like he too is feeling every tiny second of the time between the moments when things were great, and when they suddenly weren’t.  There are no rings around Even’s eyes, but the defeated look in them is almost worse. His smile is still there, but Isak is enough of an expert on putting up a front that he can see the desperation behind it.  He can see the way Even is playing a role but looks like a lost puppy underneath it. Isak can’t afford to give in, he can’t afford to back down and let himself care again. But damn, Even makes it so hard. He apologized, apparently with no hope of any reconciliation.  He apologized because it’s the right thing to do. Isak’s heart can’t take that.

“I’m sorry, Isak,” Even says again, as Isak tries to come up with some sort of response.  “I’ll … uh. I’ll go. Don’t worry, I won’t bother you again.”

And somehow, Isak can’t leave it here like this.  He reaches out, almost without thinking, and clasps Even’s arm.

“You don’t …” Isak starts.  “Look, I was mad yesterday. I just want you to know that I don’t think you were being an asshole.  And … uh. Thanks. For saying sorry.”

Even shrugs, and looks like he doesn’t know what to do with Isak’s words.  Isak smiles, he can’t help it. After the apology, after the suggestion that Even will leave him alone, after Even’s admission that he’s been an asshole … Isak doesn’t have it in him to stay angry.  Even smiles back, and nods. Isak feels like there’s been a shift of some sort between them. The pain of the betrayal he feels has gone. It still hurts and he still feels like he’s lost something precious.  But Isak feels a lot more at ease now.

Even walks away, and Isak finds himself watching.  So he sees when Even looks back with a small sad smile.  He manages a grin of his own before the corners of his own mouth droop again, his shoulders slump back into tiredness and he too turns and walks away.

  


Jonas corners him after school, and Isak flinches at the memory of the last time they were together.  If he’d been thinking straight, Isak should have figured something like this would happen. He’s been so tired today that he’s barely managed a word to anyone, let alone his best friend.  Jonas isn’t the type to ignore that. So, despite the tired sigh Isak allows himself when he sees Jonas’ open, cheerful face, he knows he needs this anyway. And if he is being truthful with himself, he probably _wants_ to talk to Jonas.

“Hey, Isak bro,” Jonas says, grasping his hand in their usual greeting, but looking closely at his face.  Isak smiles, knowing how shit he looks, but not wanting to worry Jonas any further. It doesn’t seem to work because Jonas’ face twists in concern and he steps back a little.  “You’re coming over,” he says.

“No, I can’t.  Eskild wants …”

“Isak, stop.  I know Eskild doesn’t want anything, and you look like you need a break.”  He smiles, something caring and gentle in it. “We’ll play Fifa and it’ll be chill.  Okay?”

Isak doesn’t have the energy to argue, and it feels nice to be cared about again.  It’s not the same as it was with Even, but Isak appreciates his friend’s care all the same.  He feels a little less like he’s alienated from everyone. In hindsight, letting Jonas know he’s gay has been freeing for Isak.  There’s no more sense that he has to pretend to like girls, there’s no necessity that he has to talk about how hot Emma is. He can just be himself.  And right now, Isak feels like shit and a bit of time with his best friend sounds like … it sounds good.

“Okay,” he says, smiling again.  

Isak’s so tired that he can barely respond when Jonas makes comments on the ride to his place, so he quickly stops trying.  Isak leans back against the seat they’re in and closes his eyes. He feels the shuddering of the tram around him, and it rocks him in a way that makes him feel safe.  It’s not long before all sounds disappear and Isak is asleep. In what seems like no time at all, Jonas is shaking his arm. Isak blinks, startled, his heart races for a moment as he regains his bearings.  He smiles sheepishly and Jonas laughs.

“Come on sleepyhead, let’s get out of here,” Jonas says, laughing as he drags Isak off the tram.  The short nap has given Isak some energy, so he’s able to converse moderately effectively with Jonas’ family when they get inside.  Even so, he breathes a sigh of relief when they go to Jonas’ room and start up his console.

“You want to tell me what’s up?” Jonas asks, as they navigate the game.  

Jonas is destroying Isak in the game, since Isak has the reflexes of a sloth because he’s so tired, and his eyes are focused on the screen.  It’s about as low key as an interrogation can be, and Isak is grateful. It means that he can treat this as no big deal. So he shrugs, feigning nonchalance.

“Even was a dick, and I’m over it.”

Jonas shoots him a sideways glance and his mouth purses in disbelief.

“That doesn’t sound like you’re over it.”

“Yeah, well.  He’s not an Outcast.  You were right about that.  And … and he has a girlfriend.”

Jonas puts his controller down and stares at Isak.  His mouth is hanging open and he looks more shaken than Isak has expected.  “But he’s so into you,” he says. “That’s not possible.”

“I thought that too,” Isak says, flushing at this new confirmation that this wasn’t all in his head.  “But it’s true.”

“Well, shit.  What a dick.”

Jonas picks the controller up and continues the game.  Isak sighs, feels the ache in his chest where Even sits.  He wishes it wasn’t this way, but if it has to be, then Jonas’ chill and casual attitude is the perfect foil.

“Jonas?” Isak says now, carefully examining his profile.

“Mmmm?”

“I’m really sorry.”  Isak takes a deep breath and reaches out to clasp his shoulder.  “I was pissed at you when you said he wasn’t an Outcast. I just want you to know that the stuff I did then … the way I kind of … kind of blamed you.  That was a dick move on my part.”

Jonas glances at him again, shrugs and grins.  “It’s okay, bro. I get it. I’m just sorry it’s turned out this way.”

“Yeah … yeah, me too.”

They play on.  Isak is still behind, unable to react fast enough to have a chance of catching Jonas.  But it’s nice to be here like this, doing something normal instead of wallowing over his broken heart.  By the time Isak gets home that night he feels a little more at peace. Even’s apology and the time with Jonas have reset his equilibrium a little.  He may not be ready to laugh and party, but Isak’s decided to give up on the wallowing. He’s not happy, and doesn’t expect to be happy for a long time, but there’s no need to completely give in to it.

  


The next few days are hard.  Isak’s still numb, his sleep is still interrupted nightly by restless dreams and he wakes often through the night in a cold sweat.  The pain is still intense, even though Isak feels better after Even’s apology. It doesn’t help that Emma spends her days casting angry glares at him whenever she walks past.  Jonas notices, of course. He pushes Isak’s shoulder after one awkward run-in on Wednesday, and nods in her direction.

“What’s up with her?”

Isak sighs.  “She thought we were going to meet on Sunday, but I couldn’t and now she’s pissed.”

“You had a meeting set up?”

“No.”  Isak looks back to where she’s standing by the fence, her baleful glare fixed on him while she talks with Mari.  “Not really. She said we would but I never agreed.” He watches as she pushes off from the wall and ostentatiously marches past him and back into the school.   There was a closer door, so she has deliberately put herself in his line of sight. Again. He groans. “I should probably have said, though.”

“Yeah, you probably should,” Jonas says. “Shouldn’t you be a bit more open with your bond partners?”

Isak shivers at the words.  They’re proof that Jonas doesn’t know everything, and that there are still parts of him that Isak isn’t letting out.  He’s not even sure why he’s keeping this close to his chest. Except that, even more than being gay, this is something Isak feels is very personal and he doesn’t like the spotlight his friends turn on him whenever they remember.  So it’s easier for him to let Jonas think what he wants to think without correcting him. Instead, Isak deflects.

“I just … that was when I left Even’s you know?  I wasn’t really in the mood.”

They’re waiting for the boys on a bench.  It’s lunchtime and Isak’s stomach is rumbling.  However, it’s kind of nice here, with a slight breeze which ruffles his hair but it’s warm enough that the sun heats his face as he tilts his head back and leans against the back of the seat.  He managed to get a few hours sleep last night, but even so Isak’s eyes are burning with the effort of keeping them open, and closing them for these few seconds feels like bliss. He sighs, groaning at the idea that there are still hours to go before he can go home.  Hours of school and study. His grip on his grades seems very tenuous, and Isak feels a cold wave of panic whenever he thinks of them. As much as he’s disdainful of the Outcast scholarships, Isak still feels the need to gain _something._  If he can’t get the general scholarships, he still needs to achieve well enough that the Outcast scholarships are within reach.  If he’s going to help Mamma, then he needs this, and he needs to focus. The problem is Isak is so exhausted, and so worn down by constantly thinking of Even this week, that his focus on his studies has dropped alarmingly.  

Jonas looks over at him and punches him gently on the arm.  “Bro, you need to get over this. He’s a dick. Just … move on.”

Ignoring the fact that Isak had barely been thinking of Even, he recognizes that Jonas’ words are reasonable.  Isak knows he should heed them but he finds he can’t. Now that Jonas has planted the idea, Isak finds his thoughts lingering on Even again.  He’s miserable, wonders what it was about him that made Even do it. What did Isak do that meant Even couldn’t trust him? He’s used to being on the outside, he’s used to being second best, but it hurts so much more that _Even_ did this.  He sighs.

“I know, Jonas.  It’s just really fucking hard, okay.  I really liked him, and he broke my fucking heart, so don’t say …”

Jonas is punching his arm, and Isak looks up to chastise him.  What he sees is enough to make him groan and bury his head in his hands instead.

“You couldn’t have used words?  You know, like ‘can it, Isak, the boys are here’?”

“In my defence, I tried.  But you were too involved in that sentence.”

“Fuck.”  Isak sits up and glares at the other two, who are still standing staring at him in shocked awe.

“You’re a fag?” Magnus asks with typical lack of tact.  Isak groans again, the meaning behind that word stabbing him.  It feels … ugly, thinking of it that way. And whatever else this thing with Even was, it wasn’t ugly.

“Please don’t use that word.”  Isak glares at Magnus as if daring him to challenge him.  Magnus has the grace to look chastened, and Isak shrugs. He refuses to answer the question when it’s phrased like that.  Besides, admitting it means admitting everything to the guys, and Isak wants to drag that out for as long as he can.

“You’re gay?” Mahdi asks finally, when it becomes obvious to all of them that Isak isn’t going to say anything.  Isak sighs, squirms. It’s harder than he expected to do this, particularly when he hadn’t exactly been ready. This was supposed to be something he made a decision about, not something he wandered into with his reckless mouth.  He shifts uneasily in his seat, glances at Jonas who nods at him encouragingly.

“I am gay, yes,” he says, before panicking and trying to qualify it.  “Or … a little. Maybe.”

“A little?  Maybe?” Mahdi asks.  He sits down next to Isak and nudges him with his shoulder.  “You’re not sure?”

“No.  I am. I think.”  Isak is cringing. This is all so much more awkward than letting Jonas guess had been.  He takes a deep breath. “Okay, yes. I’m sure. I like boys.”

“And one broke your heart?” Magnus asks, as if he’s really listening.  As if he genuinely _cares._  That really shakes Isak, because he’s spent so long with these guys feeling like he’s an outsider, feeling like he’s not actually accepted or wanted.  But today … today it feels more like he is included and cared about.

Still, the words send his mind right back to Even and Isak has to close his eyes against the painful memories of the night they spent together.  Memories that veer from the delightful, from the highs of kissing him for the first time and waking up next to him. The highs of how fucking great it felt to be with someone who appeared to treasure him.  But the _lows._  When he found out Even was a fucking Beast.  When he found out there’s a girlfriend. When he found out about the lying.  It all combines, the pleasure and the agony, to make Isak feel fragile, as if he might break at any second if he talks about any of this.  He might have forgiven Even, he might understand that things weren’t as bad as he had imagined them to be. But it still fucking hurts and his heart is still aching with the loss of the closeness they’d shared.  So he just nods, swallowing the tears that threaten and trying not to look like it actually bothers him too much.

“That sucks, man,” Magnus says, sitting down and tearing into the sandwich he’s brought.  “Sounds like an asshole.”

“He is,” Jonas says.  

Isak can hear the protectiveness in his tone but he cringes.  Even’s hurt him, yes. But he had his reasons. The apology the other day went a long way to lancing any lingering anger, so all that’s left is the pain.

“He’s not,” Isak says softly.  “He apologized. He had reasons.”  He shrugs, tries to hide the depth of his feelings behind the simple gesture.  He doesn’t want the boys to see right to the heart of this thing; it’s too deep, too much, to share casually like this.  “I just wish he trusted me enough to tell me the shit, you know?”

“Isak, hiding his type and the girlfriend from you was an asshole move and no amount of apologizing can change that.”

Isak drags his eyes away from Jonas’ and back down to look at his knees.  He’s exhausted and he doesn’t really want to go through this. He knows it all, has told himself this every day since Sunday.  He’s heard it, at length, from Eskild. He doesn’t need to hear it again.

“I know,” he whispers now.  “But it helps. To know he didn’t _mean_ to be an asshole.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Mahdi gearing up to say something and he shakes his head wearily.  “Please don’t,” he says. “I know it all; I’ve heard it all. I just … I want to forget about it.”

He can see Jonas exchanging glances with the other two and he wishes he had enough energy to care.  His sleep has been so disrupted this week that he can’t muster much enthusiasm for anything. But at least it seems like the others decide to drop it.  The conversation moves on, and Isak is allowed to stay in his bubble while the others talk around him.

Idly, Isak notices as Jonas pulls his phone out and glances at it.  His eyebrows raise a little, but he nods at the phone as if in response.

“You want to head to the cafeteria?” he asks as he looks around, tucking the phone back into his pocket and standing up.

Magnus stops eating with a small piece of bread hanging out of his mouth, and looks at Jonas as if he’s said something outrageous.

“I’m already eating,” he says around his mouthful of food, the sound muffled and difficult to make out.

“Yeah, but I’m fucking starving,” Mahdi says, backing Jonas up and Isak realizes again how empty his stomach is.  He tries to think how much he’s eaten over the last few days and he can’t remember the last time he had something truly substantial.  His stomach groans, reinforcing the idea, and he nods.

“Sure, Jonas.  Let’s go.”

They make their way to the cafeteria, pushing their way through the small bunches of students who have gathered wherever they can find a spot.  The others tease each other but Isak is still too tired to do more than put one foot in front of the other. It’s almost a shock when they walk into the room and see the students scattered around the various corners at tables and lining up at the counter.

Jonas shifts from foot to foot and glances towards the back of the room.  “I … uh …I think I see Sana and I need to ask her something.”

Isak’s foggy brain doesn’t really register how odd that is, but Magnus immediately asks, “you don’t have classes with her though?”

“No,” Jonas says, and Isak thinks he can see small spots of pink high on his cheeks.  “No. But. I just need to see her for a moment.”

He nods in the direction of the back corner and starts making his way there without waiting for agreement.  Isak finds himself trailing along behind them, and it’s not until they’re almost there and Sana lifts her eyes to his that he realizes who she’s with.  He freezes. Even. He’s here and Isak wants to run.

“What about Isak?” Sana says, and Isak wishes himself a mile away.  It’s clear that she and Jonas have set this up between them, but he’s not sure why.  He’s particularly not sure why Jonas would want to help with the Even thing; he’s made his feelings about it very clear.

“What about him?”  Even’s voice is wobbly, vulnerable.  There’s no hint of the cool, collected, confident guy Isak has known.  The sound of that voice makes Isak’s knees weak and he has to look down to compose himself.

“What’s happening with him?”  Sana’s pressing, and there’s a slight hint of amusement in her tone.  Isak cringes. This is so awkward, and he really doesn’t have the energy to deal with it.

“You think there’s something?”  Even’s so defeated, his voice holds an infinite sadness and Isak has to fight his body’s urge to reach out and soothe him.

Sana rolls her eyes, and Isak almost grins, despite wishing that this wasn’t happening right now.  Her impatience transcends even the most serious of topics apparently. “You forget, I’m a Seer,” she says.  “It was obvious there was something. But both of you seem down a bit this week. Did something go wrong? Is it because he’s an Outcast?”

Even shakes his head.  “No, he’s perfect. It’s not him; it’s because I’m an asshole who tried to hide everything.  I fucked it all up because I wasn’t straight up with him.”

Isak’s heart constricts.  As much as it hurt what Even did, it hurts more to hear him so … so down on himself.  It sounds very much like Even’s spent the last few days in much the same state as Isak has: second guessing everything he ever said or did, and wondering why things turned out the way they did

He clears his throat and Even startles.  Sana’s smile becomes wide as she turns to look at them all, and Isak winces.  They could at least _try_ not to be quite so obvious.  He wants to talk to Even, he wants to try to straighten all this out, but he definitely doesn’t want to do it with an audience like this one.  Still, he has to say something. He can’t leave Even feeling the way he so clearly does.

“You … uh.  You didn’t fuck anything up,” Isak says now, his voice soft as he looks directly at Even.  Even still looks so defeated that Isak wants to drag him away somewhere and try to erase that look from his eye.  It still hurts, but there’s something more there now. There’s hope. Hope that Even could do or say something to make this work out okay.

“I wish I could believe that,” Even says, looking down as if he’s confused.  Isak doesn’t blame him; it’s not like he’s been exactly forthcoming these last few days.  Even looks back up at him, and there’s a question in his eyes. “But I should have done everything differently.”

Isak can tell that all his feelings are stamped all over his face.  The pain is there, of course; that’s been his constant companion since the moment he found out Even is a Beast.  But there’s also affection, he can feel it worming its way back into his heart, and its companion is there too. Lust.  Maybe it’s the exhaustion, or maybe Isak’s just tired of trying to hide from his feelings, but right now he’d love to get Even alone and _do things_ to him.  Repeatedly.  He blushes.

“I think we should be leaving, don’t you, boys?”  Jonas says abruptly, grabbing Magnus and Mahdi, despite their squawked protests, and starting to move backwards.  Isak sends him an exasperated glance, but Sana jumps to her feet nodding. She grabs Isak and pushes him down into the chair she had just been sitting on.  

“Are they going to have a gay conversation?” Magnus asks, and his voice is loud, so loud that Isak winces at the idea that others may have heard him.  His surreptitious glance around doesn’t show any of the other students actively listening, but that doesn’t mean anything. As an expert in covert eavesdropping, Isak knows that someone could have heard.  He blushes as Magnus carries on. “I wonder what they’re like …”

Isak can’t hear Jonas’s response, but he can hear the irritation in his voice as they leave, and Mahdi’s equally loud laugh which seems to be intended to cover for Magnus’ lack of tact.

Even has been sitting with his head down and his eyes fixed on the table, unable or unwilling to look at Isak.  But one thing Magnus’ comment does is make him laugh. Isak can’t help the unwilling snort that escapes from him too and Even finally looks up at him.  He looks terrible, and this time there are bags under his eyes and he looks fragile. That fragility is so reminiscent of the way he looked when Isak left him sleeping in his bed such a very few days ago that he has to swallow against the tide of sadness that washes over him.  If they’re ever going to get past this, they do need to talk. They need to clear the air, let it all be said.

“So,” Isak says.  “I guess we’re supposed to talk?”

“I guess so.”

They sit like that for a few moments, and Isak has no idea how to start this properly.  Then Even laughs again. “It seems like ‘gay conversations’ involve very few words, then.”

Isak laughs with him.  “Seems like it.” He looks at Even briefly before shrugging.  This is so much more awkward than any other conversation they’ve ever had, and Isak finds it much harder than he’d expected to break the awkwardness.  He says the first thing that comes into his head, just to start the conversation “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

Isak reddens, realizes his mistake, but is unable to think of something else to say.  So he says it, but it comes out in a whisper since it seems so .. so arrogant that he thinks to ask this at all.  “That I’m perfect.”

“Oh.”  Even smiles, his own cheeks reddening and becoming even more beautiful in the process.  “Yeah, I did.”

Despite how awkward this still is, Isak decides he needs to be honest now.  He wants to get back onto some sort of stable ground, but he can’t do that if he keeps his thoughts to himself.  So he breathes out, sits on his hands to stop them from shaking, and then looks Even square in the eye.

“I thought you didn’t really like me.”

Even’s face falls as he registers the sincerity.  He looks like he wants to reach out to Isak but isn’t sure if he should.  “I do. I do like you. A lot. A really _really_ scary lot,” Even says, and Isak remembers that day he first said those words.  Remembers the slight lessening of the pain when Even said them. “I’m just … I’m always worried about how people will react when they know I’m … you know.”

Isak nods, catching on quickly that Even doesn’t want his type spoken aloud in this public space.

“I don’t care,” Isak says now, his voice fierce as if he can convince Even with just the force of his personality.  And he doesn’t care, he realizes. Mamma is a Beast, and Isak still loves her. He’s not sure why Even thought he would be any different.  “I just wish you’d trusted me.”

“I know.  I’m--”

“If you say you’re sorry one more time, Even, I swear I’m going to punch you.”

It feels natural to tease Even right now, though Isak is aware that this is at least partly a defence mechanism.  The conversation has become a little intense a little fast, and Isak is doing what he always does to protect himself.  Still, it feels nice. To be at ease enough with Even to crack a joke, to be a little lighthearted. It seems like Even feels it too, as he slides just as easily into the banter they have been used to.

“But I am!  You shouldn’t block a man from an apology.”

Isak rolls his eyes, but he feels lighter, and there’s a genuine smile sitting on his face.  It feels good. He feels good. Maybe they can salvage something from this, after all. “I believe you,” Isak says softly, acknowledging the truth hiding behind Even’s playfulness.

They sit for a moment in silence, just enjoying being happier together.  Then Even leans forward and he looks much more serious. But he also seems less burdened, like something has been lifted from his shoulders.  

"I need to tell you I broke up with Sonja."

Isak sucks in his breath.  That’s so big. It feels like a huge thing for Even to have done, and a tiny part of Isak thinks Even maybe did it for him.  At least in part. He smiles.

"You did?"

"Yeah, I did."  Even sighs, smiles a little as he says, "I just needed to figure out who I am without a Beauty."

Isak swallows; that’s such a huge admission.  A huge thing for a Beast to do. It’s clear that it’s taken a toll on Even, and that he’s a little lost at the idea that he doesn’t have a Beauty.  Isak gets that; it’s made clear in every TV show and book you read that a Beast alone is a dangerous Beast. He thinks of his own mother and swallows.  Risking becoming like _her_ is a massive step to take.  "I'm glad,” Isak says. “That's ... that's a big thing."

It feels inadequate, like Isak should be saying more.  And yet, how much more is there to say? It is a big thing, and Isak is glad Even has taken that step.  Both for selfish reasons, and because Even just looks happier now that she isn’t in his life anymore.

"Yeah," Even nods, and his shoulders sag.  It’s as if he thought Isak would reject him.  But then, Isak remembers that he told Even about his mother, he told him that her being alone wasn’t a nice life.  In the face of that, he can understand why Even might not trust him with this, particularly if he was considering separating from his Beauty.  Isak’s just about to open his mouth to apologize, when Even speaks again.

“Can we … can we start over?”

There’s a sense of wary hope in Even’s voice and Isak’s words die on his tongue.  Now is not the time to discuss Mamma and her relation to Even. Now is the time to mend bridges.  So long as Even doesn’t want to take things _too_ fast.  Starting over is one thing, but this new peace is vulnerable and Isak doesn’t want it to shatter if they push on too quickly from here.  Isak’s not ready to return to where they were. Not yet anyway. He still feels too fragile himself, too much like he’ll fall apart if things disintegrate again.  So he’s wary in his own turn when he answers.

“Start over how?”

“Just … talk maybe?  Be honest with each other?”

Isak nods, relieved, and allows himself to smile.  It’s a relief to feel like it, to feel like there’s something to smile about.  It’s been a very long few days and Isak hasn’t felt like smiling much at all. “Yeah,” he says now.  “Yeah I think that’d be chill.”

“Can we meet?  Maybe on Friday?”

Even’s eyes are wide and hopeful as he asks and Isak can feel the smile on his face get wider, if that’s even possible.  

“Yeah, okay,” he says.  “My place? We could maybe have dinner.”

Isak doesn’t think he could go back to Even’s apartment.  Not this soon. Everything between them is still too new and too small for him to be able to see the site of his humiliation with any sort of equanimity.  And the idea of facing Even’s parents again any time soon. Isak shudders at the thought; they’re too tied up with all the stressful feelings for him to be comfortable trying to make small talk with them.  As if he gets it, Even nods.

“Your place.  I’ll be there about 18? Maybe?”

Isak nods.  But then there’s a small moment where neither of them know what to say.  The conversation has petered out and it’s too hard to think of a new banal topic to start.  Not when there’s so much they still need to say to get back to a sense of stability. This has been a start, after all, but it’s not done yet and there’s still a barrier between them; there’s still the lying and the hiding.  So Isak is almost relieved when the bell shrills and he has to go to class. He turns back to Even and nods.

“I’ll see you on Friday then,” he says, and gets an answering smile in return.  The memory of that smile, all crinkles and joy, sustains Isak through the rest of the day even while his eyes try to drift shut and his brain refuses to take in any of the information the teachers try to impart.

 

 

The next day Isak is feeling better rested.  Not fully refreshed, exactly, but more like he might actually be able to function like a normal human being.  It makes the day easier, being able to process what the teachers are saying and keep up with Sana’s brain’s twists and turns as she argues with him about Biology.  She stops for a moment, turns and looks at him.

“It’s nice to see you’re better.”

“I wasn’t sick,” Isak says, because he can’t resist winding her up.

She rolls her eyes.  “Don’t be a dick. You look … happier, somehow.  Did you …?”

“Not really,” Isak says, not even bothering to pretend he doesn’t know what she means.  “Not yet. But we’re going to talk. Tomorrow.”

“Good,” she says, turning back to her work.  “You’re no use to me when you’re pining.”

Ignoring the comment about pining, Isak grins.  He tilts his head in the way he knows infuriates her and winks.  “You’re saying I’m of use to you! Admit it, Sana. You need your Biology mentor.”

She huffs in irritation and deliberately pulls the paper they’re working on towards her as she shakes her head.

“I will not.  I have a much better handle on this than you do.”

“Mmmmhmmm,” he says, his grin getting wider as he taps the paper.  “So who was right about the genes the other day?”

She purses her lips and flips the page aggressively.  “Lucky guess.”

“Skill, actually.  No luck involved.”

She glances sideways at him and shrugs, admitting defeat.  “You’re useful sometimes. I’ll admit.”

Isak takes a breath in, then decides fuck it.  He’s going to ask. So he turns square on to her and asks, “Sana?”

She looks up at him quickly, and something in his face must show how serious he is because she puts her pen down and the teasing look on her face drops away.  She lifts one brow in query.

“Why did you and Jonas … you know?  Yesterday?” He shrugs uncomfortably.  “Jonas isn’t … he doesn’t really approve?”

She looks at him as if he’s really stupid and shakes her head.  “Unbelievable,” she says. “You still don’t get it.”

“Don’t get what?”

Isak can feel the creases on his forehead.  She’s being cryptic, as usual, and he groans.  Fucking Seers and their attempts to seem cool and mysterious.  She turns back to her books and her dimples are on full show, a sure sign that she’s finding this amusing.

“That’s not really for me to say,” she says.  “You should ask Jonas.”

It’s a dismissal and Isak sighs as he pulls his own books to himself.  “Thanks for nothing, Sana.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see her smile.  Maybe she’s right, and maybe he should ask Jonas. But Isak doesn’t really want to find out the answer, not that way; Jonas can be unreadable sometimes, but when he and Sana get together their ‘wise’ stuff can get really irritating.  Between them, they see a lot and it frustrates Isak that he can’t see it too. This shit always makes him feel dumb, and he hates that. And her insinuation that he should already have it figured out just makes it all worse.

So he huffs, forces it out of his mind and focuses on tomorrow’s meeting with Even.  It feels like it’s a big thing, momentous. More even than it did when he went to Even’s apartment last week, this feels like it’s going to make or break whatever is going on between them.  Isak isn’t an idiot, he doesn’t want to feel again the way he has this week, but he also knows he wants Even and it seems like Even still wants him. So, he owes it to himself to hear Even out and to see where this goes.  He’s wary, but he’s open. He figures that’s all he can do.

 

  
“Baby Gay, you need to calm down,” Eskild says from his spot on the couch.  “You’re making me dizzy.”

“Too much energy,” Linn agrees, her head leaning on Eskild’s shoulder as she sips a cup of tea.  She’s fascinated enough by the idea of Even coming over that she’s making one of her appearances in the common areas.

Isak throws another cushion back onto the couch beside them.  “Well, if you assholes would help make the place nice, I might not have to be so energetic.”

Eskild stirs, getting up from his seat and grabbing Isak by both arms.  “You and I both know you’d be like this even if the place was perfect.” He drags Isak back to the couch and forces him to sit down between him and Linn.  “So how about you tell your darling guru what’s wrong?”

Isak looks between them both and slumps, the buzzing tension leaching out of his body and leaving a weary anxiety in its wake.  “What if it goes badly?”

“It won’t,” Eskild says, and holds a hand up as he sees Isak’s mouth open to protest.  “I mean, we won’t let it. If it starts to go funny, Linn and I will show him the door.”

“Yes,” she agrees.  “Less disruptions that way.”

Eskild smiles at her and pats her hand.  She smiles a little, an acknowledgement that she likes this, likes being here with them.  Then Eskild turns his attention to Isak.

“You said he’s not an Outcast?”

Isak shakes his head, swallowing.  “No, he isn’t. But I can’t tell you what he is.  That’s not … he doesn’t want people to know, I think.”

“Well that was obvious,” Eskild says with a smirk.  “Which didn’t work so well for you.”

“No.  It’s still not my secret.”  Isak stares Eskild down. “Just like … you know, being gay isn’t anyone else’s secret.”

Eskild apparently doesn’t get the hint because he beams at Isak and pats him on the back.  “I’m so proud of you, Baby Gay,” he says, and Isak catches Linn’s eyes as he turns away. She smiles too, as if she agrees and he can feel a lump rising in his throat.  He really does love this small group of people who have become his family. “I’m proud that you’re allowing yourself another chance,” Eskild adds, and Isak smiles.

“I don’t know.  It feels like stupidity to me.”

The sound of the buzzer is loud in the apartment and Isak swallows.  He gets up silently to answer, and looks back at Eskild and Linn and takes in their encouraging nods as he makes his way over to let Even in.  It takes several long, anxious moments before Isak can hear a shuffling behind the door and realizes Even is hesitating outside. He swings the door open and stares into Even’s blue eyes.  They look shellshocked, anxious, as if Even is just as worried about how this will go as Isak is. The obvious stress on Even’s face makes Isak relax and he smiles as he reaches out. It’s instinctive, a desire to feel Even’s heartbeat and to know this is real, that he’s here.  That they’re both willing to take this leap.

His arms wrap around Even and Isak closes his eyes in recognition of the way this feels.  It’s still good, still feels like security and happiness. He can feel Even’s nose as it buries into Isak’s hair and he smiles against Even’s cheek.

“Hi,” he says as he releases Even and leads him through into the house.  

He rolls his eyes as he sees that Eskild has rearranged him and Linn between the two couches.  He’s clearly decided that Isak and Even won’t be sitting together until he’s said his piece. He jumps up and grabs Even’s hand in an enthusiastic handshake.  His greeting is over the top, as usual and Isak finds himself protesting. Eskild may be a Fairy Godmother, and he may have taken Isak under his wing, but that doesn’t mean that Isak _likes_ it.  

The banter does settle his nerves a little.  He’s been thrumming with anxious energy since before Even got here and that hug didn’t help.  The feel of Even’s body against his own has done nothing for Isak’s sense of peace and stability and he needs to settle himself.  This isn’t going to work if he can’t focus. Eskild’s clearly got a game plan. He seats Isak next to Linn, who puts her hand on his leg and squeezes.  One glance at her lets Isak know she’s in his corner. He slides his hand onto hers and squeezes back gratefully. That, of course, leaves Even next to Eskild who is facing away from Isak so he can only see the back of his head, but he can see the fiercely protective lines of his body.  By contrast Even looks nervous. He’s shuffled to the edge of the couch and is perched there as if he’s going to run away.

“Now, Even,” Eskild starts, and Isak sighs at the tone of his voice.  He’s going to go full Godmother on Even, then. It’s not like Isak didn’t expect this, but he did hope that he and Even might be allowed to talk about this together.  Alone. But apparently that’s not to be, as Eskild continues. “As Isak’s guru, and with no family here to do it, it falls to me to do the interrogation.”

“Okay,” Even says, nodding.  He looks serious too, eyes focused on Eskild and his body still rigid.  “What do you want to know?”

“Baby Gay has been unhappy lately,” he says, and Isak squawks indignantly, “Eskild,” which he just ignores.  Of course. It’s not like Isak has any stake in this conversation or anything. He rolls his eyes and pulls his legs up onto the seat and wraps his arms around them.  It’s hard to hear his week boiled down by someone else like this, but to be fair to Eskild, his assessment is reasonable and he has a right to be concerned. Eskild’s voice hardens when he adds, “I want to know what you thought you were doing.”

“I … uh.  I …” Even takes a deep breath then looks at Isak, holding his gaze for a long moment before he turns his attention back to Eskild.  There’s so much hope in that look, a desire to make this right. “I’ve said all this to Isak before, but I was scared he’d run away if I told the truth.  I’m a Beast, and I’m a shitty person and I selfishly wanted to keep seeing the look on his face that said I was worth something.”

Isak catches the tiny movement Eskild makes at the word ‘Beast’ and he smiles, a small sad thing.  That Even is willing to let these people, who he doesn’t know, into his secret, he must really want this.  He must be serious. The tenderness Even never fails to generate in him, is back.

“You are worth something,” Isak says softly. Because he is.  No matter what has happened between them in the past, no matter what else comes of this, that one thing is true.  Even is worth so much, and the fact that he believes he isn’t hurts Isak.

“That’s pretty stupid of you,” Eskild says now, ignoring Isak’s comment, and Even laughs, breaking the tension that had descended.  Isak closes his eyes in thankful recognition of the benefits of a Fairy Godmother. They are very good at creating a nice atmosphere, and Eskild is no exception.

“I know,” Even says.  “I never claimed to be smart.”

“You know what I’m going to say, right?” Eskild continues, and Isak can hear the fierceness in his voice even as he can’t see his face.  He feels a swift surge of affection for this ridiculous man who tries so hard to look after Isak and be what his parents can’t. “If you hurt him again, I will personally hunt you down and cut off your balls.”

Even nods, looking serious, but he casts one swift look over at Isak and it looks like he sends him the smallest of winks.  Isak can tell he’s amused, and yet he blesses him for allowing Eskild this moment. He has no way of knowing Eskild’s type and yet he’s treating him with respect as if his intrusive questions and demands are somehow reasonable.   

“That’s serious business,” Even says with a small, fond smile.

“Yes it is, Even.  Because I’m a serious man.”

This time Even does laugh, and Isak can’t prevent his own chuckle from ringing out.  Eskild in his kimono and with his puppy dog bounce and intrusive jokes, just doesn’t come across as someone to take seriously.  Even so, Even still respects him enough to take his words at face value.

“I can tell you mean business.  Isak just threatened to punch me.”

“You said that, Baby Gay?”

Eskild turns to look at Isak as he growls, then scowls as he nods.  He wishes Eskild would stop using that name but at this point it feels like it’s probably futile and he’s doomed to it forever.  

“I’m impressed,” Eskild says.  “Maybe I _can_ leave you in this guy’s hands.  Look at you,” he coos, getting up and squishing Isak’s cheeks, making him growl again and push his hands away.  “You’re all grown up and defending yourself.”

“Fuck off, Eskild!”  There’s no heat in Isak’s voice, though.  He loves this, loves that Eskild cares enough to do this.  That he wants to be here for Isak, even if his idea of ‘being there’ is so cringeworthy.

Eskild turns back to Even.  “In all seriousness, you seem okay.  But are you sure being a Beast, and you know … going out of archetype so to speak, isn’t going to--”

“To make me fuck with him?”  Even frowns, and looks worried.  His eyes meet Isak’s again and Isak can see the fear in the depths.  To be perfectly honest, it is a fear he shares. Even’s hurt him once when he was stable and had a Beauty to regulate him; how can he be sure it won’t happen again?  As if he reads Isak’s thoughts, Even says, “I can’t guarantee it won’t; all I can do is promise I’ll try. And if it feels like it’s going wrong I’ll pull it back. That is I will if … if Isak wants me to bother trying at all.”

He raises his eyebrows as he looks at Isak, asking the question.  Asking him to trust him. This is the first time they’ve acknowledged out loud that there could still be more between them than a friendship, and Isak feels the weight of that decision.  But if tonight has taught him anything it’s that Even is serious, that he hasn’t been stringing Isak along, and that he wants to try just as much as Isak does. It’s enough. For now. So he keeps his gaze firmly on Even’s when he answers.  

“I do want you to.”

Just like that, with those few words, it’s like everyone and everything has dropped away and all that remains is Even.  There’s pleased surprise on his face, as if he really didn’t expect Isak to agree. Isak smiles, letting his desire show in his eyes and the responding darkening of Even’s makes his throat go dry.  Suddenly Isak _wants._  He wants to touch Even, to be with him.  He wants to feel his body again, to kiss him again, to feel those things he’s only ever felt with Even.  The desire floods right through Isak and makes his cheeks light up.

Eskild clears his throat and starts insisting that he and Linn should make themselves scarce.  It’s excruciating, making Isak feel more embarrassed than he has in a long time. He needs to get away from this, away from Eskild and his innuendo.  So he marches over, grabs Even’s hand and pulls him down the hallway towards his bedroom. Eskild’s cheerful commentary on what they might be about to do rings in his ears even after he closes the door, drops Even’s hand and leans back against it, biting his lip and wondering what happens now.

Even seems to feel Isak’s hesitation again, and Isak wonders idly if this is another Beast thing.  Even always seems so attuned to Isak and his moods that it can feel a little intense at times. He smiles, holds his hand out to Isak.

“Hey.  Come here,” he says invitingly, and Isak’s heart melts a little more.  He’s so damn sincere, and Isak can’t believe how gentle Even’s being. His mother is all sharp edges and demands, sudden rages and bursts of emotion.  But Even … Even is sweet and he isn’t pushing. Isak can see the effort this is taking, can see the deliberate way Even is holding himself in order to not push against any barriers or boundaries Isak might have.  Isak processes for a moment, takes the time Even is so generously giving him, to examine his fears and make sure he does want this. His heart is beating fast, yes, but it’s an anticipatory speed. In fact, all Isak can feel is want.  He wants this, and there’s no lingering concern. The future is the future and if it falls apart again so be it. Right now, this feels right.

So he moves to Even and takes his face in his hands.  Even does the same and the feeling of his thumbs caressing Isak’s cheeks makes him sigh in contented bliss.  Until this moment, he hadn’t fully understood how much he had missed Even and his touch. Then they’re kissing, and Isak loses himself in it, allows his hands to drift into Even’s hair, allows himself to feel the softness of his lips and the way his hands framing Isak’s face set his nerve endings on fire.  Desperate for more, Isak lets his lips part and then Even’s tongue is inside his mouth and he’s melting. Heat is pooling in his chest, his belly, his arms and Isak doesn’t ever want to stop. But Even pulls back, leaving Isak dazed and panting in the wake of the kiss.

“Do you … do you think we should talk?”  There’s clear effort behind Even’s words, and the fact that he’s willing to give this to Isak if he needs more time is enough to shatter all remaining reservations.

“I’m sick of talking,” Isak says, and he can hear the raspiness of his voice, the desperate tone it’s taking.  

He presses another kiss to Even’s lips and he feels the way Even relaxes into it, as if he too can’t control what he’s feeling.  He breathes against Isak’s lips, though, a soft query. A final comment, to allow Isak to back out.

“We said we’d talk.”

“Yeah,” Isak agrees.  “We will. But everything important has been said and I …” he kisses Even again.  “I don’t want to talk right now.”

“Okay,” Even says.

He kisses the soft spot under Isak’s ear, making him moan.  In any other circumstances and with any other person, Isak would feel horribly embarrassed at making a sound like that.  But here and now with Even, he just feels good. It’s good to be reminded that he is wanted and desired and that he _can_ have this.  All those days feeling like he wasn’t worth anything, mean that now Isak doesn’t want to hide from what he’s feeling, and Even somehow manages to make Isak forget all that pain and heartache. They kiss until they’re both breathless and Isak can’t hold himself upright any longer.  He moves them so they’re by the bed, then pushes Even. He gets the hint and climbs up onto it, allowing Isak to follow.

“Are you sure?” Even asks, because it’s obvious to both of them what Isak wants to happen.  He wants this, wants to feel Even, wants to know without a shadow of a doubt what it’s like to be with another person.   So Isak nods, pouring everything into making sure Even _knows._  

Even reaches out his hand and slides it down Isak’s side.  Isak shivers, his skin tensing a little as Even’s hand slips lower.  Isak watches the progress in fascination, feels the way his skin reacts to the gentle touch.  He’s alive, his body electric in a way it never has been before. Even’s hand reaches his waistband and all Isak can feel is heat and desire.  His dick is hard, aching and he wants to touch it, but he also wants Even to touch it. Wants to know what that’s like. Wants someone else’s hands on him, Even’s hands specifically.  Even halts his movement and looks up into Isak’s eyes.

“Can I?” he asks.  His voice is filled with lust, and Isak shifts a little under his hand.  He nods, breathing out a soft “yeah” as he does so. This all feels so much, that Isak has to let himself fall back.  His arms are no longer capable of holding him up and he’s just now realizing how big this moment is. This is Isak, giving his trust to Even.  This is him saying that even if he’s been burned before, he’s willing to try again. He’s willing to let himself be at his most vulnerable with Even.

He bites his lip, stares upwards as Even undoes his jeans.  The only sounds are the rasp of the zip, and the pants from both of them.  That helps, a little. Isak relaxes as he realizes Even is feeling this too.  He’s not the only one here overcome by this moment. He shivers again, skin reacting instantly, as Even kisses his waist.  His mouth is so close to Isak’s dick, making him whimper as he shifts restlessly. There’s a change in the air around them as Even looks up at him, then moves so he can kiss Isak properly.  He allows his legs to drop open, unconsciously, wanting to feel Even against him, wanting some sort of pressure on his aching dick.

“Can I touch you?” Even asks.

Isak can feel the blush as it floods his face, but his voice is steady and he’s totally certain when he says, “yes.”  He wants this, needs it now. He trusts Even to do this right, trusts him not to make it awkward. Because it’s Even, and he’s always somehow made Isak feel important and fully present in a way no-one else does.

Isak’s eyes close briefly and he whispers, “faen” as Even’s hand closes around his dick.  He lets his eyes close again, lets himself feel it as Even’s hand moves slowly on him, creating a tension Isak hadn’t even realized was possible.  It’s _so much_ and Isak feels like he could fall apart just from this touch.

“Good then?” Even asks, and there’s a hint of warmth in the voice.  It’s so banal in the stillness of this room that Isak’s eyes fly open and he huffs out a laugh.

“Jesus fuck, Even, are you going to chat through this?”

“Maybe I am.”

“Well stop; you’re ruining the moment.”

And suddenly, Isak is so thankful that it’s Even he’s here with, because it is big and intense, and it could have been awkward.  But with Even it’s silly and funny, and Isak is able to stop being so much in his head. He’s able to just enjoy what’s happening.  Then Even twists his hand a little, fire sparks right through Isak and he can’t suppress the, “faen” that groans out.

Even laughs, his hand keeps moving inside Isak’s boxers, and Isak has to close his eyes to take it all in.  He can’t keep still, his hips rocking in time with Even’s movements, and he can feel his body lifting, trying to press itself more firmly into Even’s hand.  But then there’s a sense of loss as Even removes his hand, and Isak whimpers, unable to contain the sounds as Even pushes his boxers down. He doesn’t really _want_ to contain them.  There’s no-one else home and the way Even’s eyes darken every time Isak makes a noise is turning him on even more.  Isak thinks he’d do almost anything to see that look on Even’s face again.

Then Isak’s dick is free, Even is kissing him and his hand is back again.  Isak’s close, so close and every movement of Even’s hand sends spikes through Isak again and again.  Even’s eyes are on his and he tries to hold that gaze as he gets closer, but it’s not long before Isak can’t do it anymore.  He’s lost in the sensations, and his eyes flutter closed as he sinks into the moment. It’s so different to when he’s alone; when someone else has the control and he has no way to know how fast the hand holding his dick will move or when it might change angle.  Isak’s gasping for breath, muttering something he has no control over. Possibly nonsense, for all the attention he’s paying to his own mouth. It’s not long before he tenses, his body twisting up off the bed and he’s coming all over Even’s hand. Even’s gaze is intense and he looks so affectionate as he stares down at Isak as he slowly opens his eyes.

“Fuck,” Isak sighs as his body relaxes and he falls back onto the bed.  “That was fucking …”

“Good?”

The blue eyes on his are curious now, trying to work out if it _was_ good for Isak.  He forgets sometimes that while Even is experienced with sex, he’s not experienced with guys.  So Isak smiles, letting all his contentment show in his face and he wriggles up to kiss Even.

“Fucking good, yeah.  It’s not like when I’m, you know, alone.”

“No,” Even says quietly, and it’s clear that he’s speaking from experience.  “It’s not.”

Isak sits up and pushes Even back a little before he can change his mind.  “Your turn.”

“That’s okay.  You don’t have to.”

Isak chuckles, his intention clear as he moves his hand down Even’s body.  “I want to,” Isak says, as he keeps his gaze on Even’s and fiddles with the strings of his sweatpants.  If you’d asked Isak a few days ago, he’d have said that doing this would feel terribly awkward, that he wouldn’t know what to do or how to do it.  But he’s so relaxed after his own orgasm, and Even looks so eager to have Isak’s hands on him, that Isak feels a thrill of delight as he waits for Even’s whispered, “yeah,” which is followed up by a stronger, “yes.  Please.”

There’s a sense of power as Isak grabs the sweats and drags them down, accidentally exposing Even all at once as he takes the boxers with them.  It’s fascinating, seeing someone else’s dick hard like this. Of course, Isak has seen other guys. It’s almost impossible in changing rooms and other such places, to avoid seeing dicks.  But this is the first time Isak’s seen one, that’s not his own, in a rigid state. It’s glorious, stands up against Even’s belly and curves slightly to one side. Because he can, and he wants to, Isak reaches out and traces one finger from the base to the tip.  Even’s swift intake of breath and the accompanying moan send heat right back to Isak’s own dick and he grins.

He wraps his hand around it firmly, moves it up.  Isak loves this, he loves the way this feels. This other person’s dick in his hands.   _Even’s_ dick.  And he’s making noises that send fire straight through Isak.  Isak’s eyes meet Even’s and he grins, filled with delight. _He’s_ doing this.   _He’s_ making Even look like that … so wrecked.  His hair a glorious mess around his head, his lips bitten red and his eyes wide and dazed.  Experimentally, Isak twists his hand the way Even had earlier and is rewarded with a long moan and a tightening of Even’s body.     

“Fuck.  Isak, _fuck.”_

Isak watches in fascination as Even’s body responds to every movement of his hand.  His hands clench the sheets and his eyes flutter between open and closed as if he can’t control them.  Isak speeds up, and Even’s breathing starts to get ragged.

“I’m going to … Isak, fuck …” he can barely get the words out, his voice is so wrecked.

Isak’s thumb rubs across the tip of Even’s dick on the upstroke and that does it.  Even’s suddenly coming, and Isak watches in surprise and fascination as he shoots high, hitting himself on his chest, and even getting some on Isak.  It’s amazing to think that he made that happen. That someone else was so affected by Isak and what he was doing that he came so intensely. He looks up at Even and can’t contain his grin.  He’s on top of the world. His own release had invigorated him, and seeing Even come too has been one of the best experiences of Isak life. The fact that they did this here, together. That this was a thing that happened between them.  It’s exhilarating. Even must see something of that in his face because he sits up and grabs Isak into a firm hug.

This, more than anything else that has happened today, makes Isak feel cherished and wanted.  They’re still covered in sticky residue, but Isak doesn’t care. He’s so overwhelmed by this that the feeling of Even’s arms around him and his own clutching Even in return is all that’s really grounding him.

They lie together quietly afterwards, arms still entwined but extra clothes pushed off the bed and the covers keeping them close.  Isak lays his head on Even’s shoulder and sighs. He’s tired, still trying to catch up on the sleep he’s missed since the school year started.  But right now it’s a relaxed bliss, and Isak feels like he could slip into dreams at any moment. It’s a nice feeling after the difficulties of the last week.

“I didn’t know it could be like that,” Isak says, his voice a soft sigh against Even’s chest.

“Me either,” Even says, and Isak can hear the truth in that statement.  It startles him a little, having assumed that Even and Sonja must have … well, that something like this must have happened before.

“You mean you didn’t …?”  

“It wasn’t the same,” Even says, kissing Isak’s forehead as he snuggles in closer.  “It’s ... there are expectations as a Beast, but I didn’t know better.” He kisses Isak again, and Isak can feel the affection he’s pouring into it.  He can feel Even’s joy and wonder. “I do now.”

“I’m glad,” Isak murmurs, happiness flooding him.  He likes that they’re both in something of the same boat.  He smiles. “I like learning with you.”

Even laughs, softly.  “I like learning with you too.”

Isak’s cozy, his mind is drifting, and he’s pleasantly contented as he drifts into sleep.  But he realizes with a slight chuckle that they never did get around to having dinner. Isak intends to question Even about it, but as he looks up he watches as Even’s face relaxes into sleep.  He smiles again, snuggling down. He’s not hungry, and he’d far rather stay here with Even than lose this feeling. So Isak lets his own eyes close and slides into sleep as well.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this became really long (which, considering I told myself this would be a shorter, more compact fic than the Even one, hahahaha ... played myself). So since it was already long and I had a good stopping point, I cut this one off earlier than the corresponding Even one. So it's unlikely that they'll be working in tandem anymore. Sorry. Hopefully, if people still like looking at them side by side, the break points are still obvious enough.

Isak wakes to Even’s arms holding him, and the smell of Even surrounding him.  It sends a painful jolt of memory through him and he moves slightly, tightening his own arms a little as if to keep Even in place this time.  It’s been less than a week since he last woke the same way, blissful and filled with hope for the future. But that day everything had shattered and now there’s a small twinge sitting in the back of Isak’s head that says maybe the same thing is going to happen again.  But Isak remembers his promise to himself, that he’s going to give this a try and not second guess everything. So he wriggles until he can hook his leg over Even’s, keeps his arm flung over his chest, and looks up so he can see his face.

“Morning,” he says.  

“Morning yourself,” Even says, and he’s smiling, one of those smiles that lights Isak up from the inside out and makes him feel so cherished.  It’s a feeling he’s missed over the last week, and if there’s one thing he gains from this -- even if this all falls apart again, as fragile as it seems -- this isn’t a bad thing to gain.  This sense of connection to Even. This sense that Isak  _ matters. _  Even seems to feel something similar as his eyes are filled with a wonder and an affection that almost stops Isak’s heart.  Then Even moves a little so they can kiss, and Isak gives himself completely over to it. It’s a little discomforting, knowing that Even has this much power over Isak.  Knowing that if he wanted to, Even could crush Isak’s heart again as easily as breathing. So, he covers for his feelings with humor.

“Gross, morning breath,” Isak complains, as they separate.  He can’t help the joke coming out in a soft, fond tone, though, because it says everything he needs it to say without giving the confused neediness he’s feeling free reign.  Even laughs, the movement shaking Isak a little and sending spikes of electricity flooding through him.

“You’re not much better,” Even says.  “That just about knocked me out.”

Isak rolls his eyes, charmed as always by Even’s ability to ease into whatever conversation Isak happens to need at the time.  “Why are you like this?” he asks, wondering what he’s done to deserve someone like this in his life.

Even laughs again, then groans.  It’s such an unexpected sound, and it sends a shaft of fear right into Isak’s heart.  Is this it then? Is Even leaving? The fear that the whole thing is just a joke sits there again, throwing up a barrier Isak wishes didn’t exist.  So he breathes a quiet sigh of relief when Even asks where the bathroom is, clearly feeling a pressing need, and silently chastises himself for his immediate assumption of the worst.

“You forgot already?”

“I was distracted!”

Isak laughs, filled with affection for Even and his honesty.  It may be covered by humor and joking, but Even has clearly decided he needs to keep everything in the open now.  “Down the hall, first door on the right.,” Isak says, and to keep the tone light, he adds, “my toothbrush is the green one; maybe use it.”

“Fuck you,” Even says with a laugh as he tries to push Isak off so he can move.  “My breath is like the gods’ and you’re lucky to have it.”

Once Even has left, Isak curls up in bed, and pulls his legs to his chest.  He wouldn’t change last night for the world, but he also feels so vulnerable and fragile that it hurts a bit.   He wants this, he can’t deny that. The past week has been a nightmare and he’s not willing to fully hand over his heart again just yet.  But Isak can’t pretend that he can stay aloof. They may not have talked everything out, and Eskild may have run the conversation without much input from Isak, but it’s clear that both Isak and Even at least want to try.  Even’s concern for Isak and what Isak wanted makes it easier, too. His hesitance to do anything without Isak being fully accepting is a blessing. Isak closes his eyes in recognition of what Even has given him with the way he treats him.  His willingness to let Isak set the pace, and to let Isak be the one to start anything, shows just exactly how much he cares and how much he wants to get this right.

The problem is that Isak has always been slow to trust and slow to give his friendship, and Even had slid under those defences and burrowed his way in somehow before Isak had even known it was happening.  It had happened so quickly, to the point that Isak thought they were bonding. And then Even had left Isak shattered and broken. So. Isak wants this, and he’s going to let himself have it, but he’s wary.  And he feels it’s only fair to let Even know that. Secrets and keeping secrets, that’s what brought them to this anyway. So when Even gets back, Isak thinks they need to talk. Properly.

He inhales, allows the anxiety that thought produces to wash over him, lets the icy veins of it steal through him.  He reminds himself that this is Even, who never purposefully hurt him and who really seems to want to make this work this time.  It’s going to be okay. The spike of anxiety fades, but Isak’s still tense, nerves jittery as he waits. Time lengthens, and Isak has to fight down the irrational fear that Even  _ has _ just walked out and left him.  He reminds himself that he has no reason to be thinking that way, that Even never actually  _ left _ last time, he’d just kept things back.  

As if in reward, Isak hears male voices from the kitchen, the whistle of the kettle, and the clunk the toaster makes as it pops.  He breathes out. Maybe Even’s just with Eskild then. He makes his way out to the kitchen but pauses just outside the door as he hears the conversation.

“I thought we talked last night,” Even is saying and Isak frowns.  Does this mean Eskild wants to say more? What could he possibly have to add?  Eskild has some odd thoughts and theories about Isak’s mother, and about the circumstances that led to Isak leaving home.  Those aren’t things Isak particularly wants somebody else to tell Even, especially when that somebody else is very protective and has a lot of half formed and misconstrued opinions on the matter.

Eskild’s voice is calm as he talks, but Isak is still worried.  He freezes at the thought that Eskild really is going to go into detail about things best told by Isak himself.  “We did. But there’s stuff you should know about Isak, more than … you know, what we said then.”

Isak has to stifle a gasp at that.  He’s not  _ sure _ what Eskild wants to tell Even, even if he has a shrewd guess, but is sure that whatever it is he’s going to bungle it.  Everything that needs to be said from here on out needs to be said by Isak. He’s about to storm in and confront Eskild, when he hears Even’s voice.

“Don’t you think Isak should be the one telling me stuff?”

Isak can’t control his smile at that.  It seems like Even’s care for him extends past the times when it’s just the two of them, and that they are both on the same page now: this, whatever it is, is between the two of them and so it’s the two of them who should be working through it.  Isak could kiss Even right now. Except that he doesn’t want to give Eskild that satisfaction, because he knows exactly how his self-styled guru would react if he were to do anything quite so explicitly gay in his presence. He’s moving towards them anyway when Eskild speaks again.

“Oh?  Do you think so?”

Eskild is so clearly puzzled himself at that thought that Isak actually does groan this time.  He makes as much sound as he can so the others turn to look at him. 

“I should be the one telling what stuff?”

The look on Even’s face as he spots Isak is so breathtaking that Isak can’t quite figure out why he was so worried when they were apart.  Everything Even feels is there in his smile and Isak can feel his own spreading over his face even as he listens to Eskild’s babbling. He tries to justify his intrusion, and even though Isak knows he’s just protective because he’s a Godmother he still feels stifled and irritated.  He wants to deal with this by himself and he doesn’t need Eskild’s meddling. So eventually he snaps, sick of tiptoeing around Eskild and his sensitivities.

“Eskild.  Seriously, it’s not your concern.  We’ll say what we want to say. To each other.  When we’re ready.”

“Isak …”

“Eskild.  Stop. You may be a Fairy Godmother, and you may have looked after me--” 

Isak cuts himself off there, horrified at what he almost revealed to Even about why he lives in this place.  He casts a quick glance sideways, hoping Even didn’t notice the slip and is relieved that Even looks just as calm and patient as ever.  He’s smiling at Isak, all his fondness so clear in his gaze that Isak almost loses his focus before forcing himself to continue. He looks back at Eskild and softens his stance a little.  He smiles at him as he says, “you’re not in charge of me. Okay? I can look after myself; you said so yourself, just last night.”

This is so important to Isak, and he’s feeling so righteous, that he almost misses the way Eskild’s facade cracks, and the disappointment that floods his face.  His heart sinks as he takes in the way Eskild slumps, his shoulders sagging and his lips wobbling. But Isak can’t give up. Not with this; it’s too important that he do this his own way and in his own time.  So he just looks at Eskild, trying to will him to understand why he needs to do this alone. 

Eskild eventually seems to accept it.  At least he sits down and reaches for some toast.  He still looks concerned and Isak can see the effort it’s taking for him to let it go.  “I hope you know what you’re doing, Baby Gay,” he says. “This pairing is a big thing.” He waves his hand between the two of them.

“We know,” Even says, and takes Isak’s hand.  The feeling of that, in a semi public place, in front of someone else, is so heady that Isak is almost giddy as he smiles at Eskild.

“We’ll figure it out.  Together,” he says as he turns to grin at Even.  “And I promise, if we need help you’ll be our first port of call, Eskild.”

They get through the rest of breakfast through a combination of good natured teasing and lots of coffee.  It’s easy to fall into his old habits with Eskild, the rolling of the eyes and the irritated huffs that conceal a deep affection.  Eskild is clearly delighted.

“Oh, Baby Gay, it’s so nice to see you cheerful again.”

“Don’t call me that,” Isak says automatically, before adding, “and I’m always cheerful.”

Eskild gives a disbelieving snort at that and Isak can feel himself flushing.  He hates being reminded that the last week happened and that he really wasn’t happy.

“I’m guessing this one was very good to you last night,” Eskild continues, nodding at Even and choosing not to address Isak’s comment.  “Maybe you need more of his d--”

“Eskild!” Isak almost shrieks, and he can feel the crimson on his cheeks.  It’s one thing to be exploring sex with Even; it’s quite another for Eskild to casually tease him about it, particularly when Even is right here and his leg is pressed against Isak’s and making him feel things he’d far rather Eskild just didn’t mention.

“What?  I’m just looking out for you, my little protege.  It’s a good thing …”

But his voice is trailing away into the distance, because Isak has rolled his eyes, grabbed Even’s hand and dragged him to his bedroom.  He knows he’s not going to stop Eskild, not when he’s in this mood. Isak remembers the many times he would poke at Noora and her sex life before she moved away.  It was embarrassing then and it’s embarrassing now, and Isak needs to escape.

He drops onto his bed, pulling Even with him, and sighs.

“Fucking babysitter,” he mutters.  “He’s so damn nosy all the time, interfering …”

He snuggles into Even’s side, feeling like he belongs here already, like this is the way he wants to lie whenever they’re together.  His leg is in its now-customary place over Even’s and it all feels so right. He’s got one hand in Even’s hair, too, and that’s so  _ nice. _  It’s soft, silky, not weighed down with product today, and it runs through Isak’s hands in a very satisfying way.  

They talk, inconsequential things about Eskild and his type, but Isak can feel his heart beating.  Now’s his chance. He’s wanted to really talk to Even about some of the stuff that still sits between them.  But actually doing it, actually saying the words doesn’t come easily. So when Even gives Isak the perfect opening when he says, “it’s interesting though, isn’t it?  Types and what they’re like,” there’s a slight pause before Isak allows himself to actually start the conversation he wants to have.

“Mmmm,” Isak agrees, eventually, as he steels himself to do this.  “You’re nothing like my mother.”

Even doesn’t respond for several long, agonizing seconds and Isak can feel his heart starting to race.  He shifts a little, trying to push away his discomfort. If he can’t talk to Even about all this, then he can’t expect to be in a relationship with him, if that’s where this is even going.  But then, the same goes for Even. What if  _ he _ doesn’t want to talk?  What would Isak do if Even decides he can’t  face this stuff? But then he does speak, and Isak can breathe again.

“I’m nothing like mine, either.”  Even looks down at Isak, maybe alerted by the tension he can’t help but feel in his body as he reacts to those words.  “She’s a Beast, too,” Even adds, as if it wasn’t already clear. “She thinks I should be, though. Keeps trying to make me act more like her.”

So, they have this in common, too.  Isak remembers the way Even’s mother radiated an aura of command when she spoke to him.  It’s like he knew somehow, and responded to the similarities with his own parent. Living with Mamma and her moods and sudden rages and emotional instability had been draining and at times terrifying.  But how much worse must living with a Beast parent be when there are expectations on you to live up to her example? He remembers Even’s distaste of expectations back when they first started talking, and he thinks he understands now why it felt so much like Even was the same as him.  Why Even would react so much to the idea of expectations following him.

Isak feels a lot of sympathy as he reaches down with the hand that’s been fondling Even’s hair to awkwardly pat at Even’s face.  “That must suck.” 

“I thought you were a Beauty,” Even says after a few moments.  “You seemed like one for so long. Even when I knew, I found it hard not to see it.”

Isak smiles at the thought even while his heart sinks at the memories of why he must have seemed like a Beauty to Even.  It’s remarkably similar to the reason why Isak thought Even must be an Outcast. 

“I had to learn to be like one,” he says now, by way of explanation.  “It was just me and Mamma for so long, and when she got … you know … I had to do what I could to help.”

Isak is horrified to hear the break in his voice as he talks about what it was like with Mamma.  He hadn’t meant it to come out that way, had intended to make Even feel like he wasn’t imagining things when he traced similarities to Beauties in Isak.  But the memories of what it was like, of the way he had to tiptoe around his mother, have unsettled him. The stressful days when Isak barely wanted to leave the house because he was never sure what might happen before he got home or what he’d get home to.  But at the same time, he didn’t want to stay either, because her unpredictable tempers could sometimes end up with her lashing out at him. Isak still feels unbearably sad when he thinks about it, wonders what he could have done to make her feel better. He wishes he could have been more like a real Beauty, and therefore better able to care for her.

He’s so sunk into his own thoughts that Isak barely notices when Even’s breathing changes and he growls low in his throat.  But then his body tenses and Isak is drawn right back to the present. Even’s eyes are wide open and staring in what looks like horror at the ceiling.   Isak’s heart shrinks in as he watches Even clutch his hair as if in agony. He sits up, and tries to get Even’s attention, but Even’s just shaking his head and refusing to look at Isak.  Isak’s heart is pounding but instead of the fear that’s always present when Mamma gets like this, all Isak can feel is pity. Because Even is clearly fighting it and is scared he’s going to lose the battle with himself, unlike Mamma who seldom fought it.  This is probably one of the first times Even’s had to face this without a Beauty to help him. The idea makes Isak feel protective, so he finds himself slipping back into those old patterns.

“Even, it’s okay.  You’re okay.” Isak keeps his voice as measured as he can, knowing that staying calm for Beasts is easiest when the people around them are calm too.  It works. Even’s turning to look at Isak, meeting his eyes, and while he still looks wild and a little lost, Isak can tell he’s making a connection. Isak nods reassuringly.   _ I’m here.  I’ve got you.  It’s okay.  _

Now Isak’s in territory he couldn’t broach with his mother; he’s with a boy he’s been kissing and cuddling with, a boy he’s allowed to touch and hold.  So Isak takes advantage of that, sliding so he’s sitting on Even’s hips and has his hands on his chest. Isak lets his hands roam, running small circles on Even’s chest as soothingly as he can.  The circles get larger as Isak feels Even’s heartbeat get slower and more under control. Isak watches in wonder as Even’s hands eventually lose the death grip on his hair, and the mewling growls that have been pouring out of his mouth start to slow down.  His breathing returns to normal, and his body relaxes. Isak’s grinning, amazed by what he’s seeing. Even was close, so close, to being gripped by the Beast side of him and yet he pulled himself back. Isak has never seen anyone manage that. 

But then Even starts to spiral into what Isak is starting to recognize as his guilt instinct.  He’s trying  _ so hard _ to protect Isak that it feels like a monumental gift.  

“I’m sorry,” Even whispers.  “I’m just … I should go.”

He moves, trying to slide out from under Isak, but Isak isn’t about to move.  His legs still pin Even’s to the bed and his hands are still firm on his chest.  He’s not letting this boy get away, not now.

“No.”  Isak is the most confident he’s been in a long time; he’s  _ not _ letting Even go.  Not after seeing what he just saw.  He says the only thing he thinks might convince Even not to be a martyr.  “I want you to stay. We still need to talk, and this doesn’t change that.”

“But I can’t control it,” Even says, and he sounds so small, so fragile, that Isak’s heart constricts again.  He looks so lost. “You don’t want that or need it.”

“You’re wrong,” Isak says.  “You controlled it.” He lets all the amazement and wonder he feels have free reign on his face.  He wants Even to see this, to know how wonderful he is. “I’ve never seen anyone so close to the edge before and still manage to not give in.  Mamma, she always … well,” he says, but stops because he doesn’t want to think about what Mamma is like when she gets this way. It’s enough that Even is so very different.  All his fears from last night, that Even might find it hard without a Beauty, are all diminished by this experience. Isak smiles down at Even, letting his fondness show. “You’re amazing.”

Even shakes his head, clearly not believing what Isak’s telling him.  “You did that. You controlled me, and you really shouldn’t have to--”

“No, I didn’t,” Isak says, trying to stop the guilt spiral again.  “I really didn’t. I was just here; you did it all.”

“I did?”

“Yeah.”

Isak’s grin is stretching his cheeks wide and it almost hurts, but he’s proud.  So proud of this boy and the way he’s struggling but managing to haul himself back in.  He watches as a tiny smile blooms on Even’s face as he starts to take it in. 

“I did it?” Even asks again as if he still can’t quite believe it, and then he’s pulling Isak down into a firm hug, and there’s a wet patch on his neck where Even’s eyes are pressed and Isak is laughing because suddenly he knows that if he doesn’t laugh he’ll be crying too.

“You did it.”

And then they’re kissing.  It’s a mixture of the fear being released and the joy of Even finding his own way.  It’s loving and proud, but it’s also hot and desperate. It’s not long before they’re out of their clothes and their bodies are clinging together.  It’s Even releasing the final burst of nervous energy after his near miss, it’s Isak expressing his pride and delight in what he witnessed. It’s both of them desperate to feel their bodies pressed together.  Even has flipped them somehow so that Isak is staring up at him as they move together, and the pace builds until it’s almost painful and yet Isak never wants it to stop. And then Even is coming all over him, and it’s so  _ much _ that Isak follows almost immediately.

The aftermath is almost better than any other Isak’s had before.  Not that he’s had all that much experience, of course, but this time there’s a shared sense of joy underlining it all.  There’s the knowledge that Even faced a huge test and that the results of that mean there’s a surer chance that they  _ can _ make it through this.  If Even can control his own rages, if Isak can stay stress free while it happens, then Even having no Beauty might not matter.  It means that an Outcast and a Beast might just be able to make something of this relationship without it all being destined to fail.  Isak’s sitting with a fragile hope, and it still feels scary and stressful, but the hope is stronger now, creating a tiny thread between them.  A thread that could strengthen if given time and energy.

The biggest problem Isak has is that he knows they still need to talk.  Even alludes to it, even, when he suggests they should be fully clothed if they ever want a serious conversation, and Isak shudders internally.  It’s the truth, and he has to admit it. When they are alone together, during times when they should probably be having real conversations and sharing the important stuff, they do seem to end up naked and covered in come.  It’s scary because Isak’s not really sure where it’s all coming from, but he’s pretty sure Jonas would have things to say on the issue of avoidance. Hell, his science textbooks would probably have things to say on it too. 

Either way, Isak’s scared, and he knows they need to actually talk.  He just can’t bring himself to broach the matter now. Even’s close shave with his rage, and the consequent spike in stress and anxiety it had provoked, mean that Isak’s earlier resolve has gone.  He sighs.

Even reacts, pulling him close and kissing his hair.  Isak closes his eyes at the gentle affection in the gesture.  He knows he should be able to trust Even now. Everything that’s happened over the last day has made that abundantly clear.  But all the things Isak isn’t saying all tie back to his mother. The fact is that he left her when she was at her most vulnerable and that it was all because of how she is as a Beast.  So, while it’s already abundantly clear that Even is a very different Beast from Mamma, there’s still a fear resting in Isak that if he talks about it, if he tells Even why he left home and how he abandoned his own mother … well, Even may run because Even may fear that Isak will do the same to _ him. _

“You okay?” Even asks, his nose still buried in Isak’s hair, and Isak shifts so he can see Even’s expression.  He looks calm and at peace and Isak is reluctant to shatter it. So he just smiles and nods.

“Yeah,” he says carefully.  “Just thinking about all this, you know?”

“All this?” Even’s humming, his voice soft in the dimness of the room and Isak wishes he could let it drop, but he has to say something, no matter how reluctant he is.

“Yeah.  Us. This archetype thing.”  He shuffles so he’s lying more firmly on Even, as if that might keep Even here if he’s inclined to run away.  “I never thought I’d be here like this.”

Even laughs, a small affectionate chuckle that relaxes Isak.  “I’m fucking relieved I’m here.” His eyes go a little misty as he looks into the distance.  “I thought I’d be stuck with a Beauty forever. With Sonja. Forever.”

Isak smiles, even as his heart wrenches a little at Even’s tone and the slight shudder that accompanies it.  “I’m definitely not a Beauty,” he says, laughing as Even moves them so he can loom over Isak, with their foreheads pressed together and lips almost brushing.  There’s so much affection beaming from Even’s eyes that Isak has to close his own to stay in the moment.

“You are,” Even says.  “You’re beautiful, and you’re mine.  My beauty.”

Isak lets himself fall into it.  He’s not really ready to go into the whole Beast thing anyway.  He doesn’t want to lose the way Even looks at him. Deep down he knows that not telling Even what he did and why he left Mamma all alone is a bad idea.  He knows that secrets between them could turn toxic. But he also knows they agreed: they’d tell each other what they needed to when they needed to. And right now, Isak can’t do it.  He can’t face an Even who might reject him the way Isak rejected his mother.

So he pulls Even’s head down more firmly and slides their lips together.  His hands tangle in the soft hair and he hums a little, licking until Even’s lips slip open and Isak can run his tongue into his mouth.  Even’s moan, and the way his own hands tighten their grip on Isak’s shirt, make Isak feel powerful and confident. So he does it again and soon they’re both lost in the kissing and when they resurface the conversation drifts to other things.  To school and friends, to their childhoods and their aspirations for the future. 

Isak tries to pretend it wasn’t cowardice that held his tongue, but he knows he’s lying to himself.  He tries to convince himself that it won’t be long, that someday soon he’ll truly feel like Even will stay and that’s when he’ll tell him.  But he’s not sure that’s the truth either. Will there ever be a time when he’s so secure in Even and what they have that he will be able to just say fuck it, and actually blurt out the whole sorry mess?

By the time afternoon has turned to evening, Isak almost has himself convinced.  He’s almost sure that this was the right decision to make, that keeping it to himself is the best way to eventually being able to say it all.  It’s so peaceful here with Even, and he feels so cherished, that Isak doesn’t want it to end. 

By the time evening has fallen completely, and after the afternoon they’ve shared filled with passionate kisses and affectionate cuddles, Isak finds himself wound up again.  His skin is taut with desire and he desperately wants something else to happen, something sexy. The problem is, Even seems content to just stay this way forever, kissing until they’re breathless but holding back from anything else.  And for all that he feels totally comfortable with Even, Isak isn’t sure enough of  _ himself _ and what this all means to actually make himself talk about it.  Which he knows is really not a great idea. Isak’s done enough research, and had enough awkward conversations with Jonas, to know that communication and being able to talk about what you want is important.  He’d even enthusiastically agreed, in theory, that he’d never do anything like … well, anything to do with sex without being able to talk about it first. The problem is that right here, right now, after the week he’s just had, Isak’s insides are squirming at the mere thought of bringing it up.

He wriggles a little, trying to get into a place where he’s not pressing his dick into Even anywhere because his dick is giving him away right now.  Even worse than the idea of talking about this bluntly, is the idea of Even just sort of figuring it out because Isak can’t control his stupid boners.  He sighs, shifts to his back as surreptitiously as he can and hopes the duvet is covering for him. Even’s arm tightens around his shoulder and he turns his head to press a kiss into Isak’s hair.

“You okay?” he asks, and his voice is so damn kind that Isak can’t cope.  He nods, looks up at Even and smiles.

“I’m okay,” he says.  “Just …”

Even moves then, so he’s lying facing Isak and suddenly Isak is blushing because there’s an unmistakably rigid dick against his leg.  His breath hitches and he looks into Even’s eyes.

“A boner, huh?” Isak asks in as steady a voice as he can manage.  It’s not very steady because all his blood has heated up and it’s getting difficult to breathe effectively.

“Mmmm,” Even says, skimming his hand down Isak’s side and coming to rest on his hip.  His thumb is achingly close to Isak’s own hard dick, and he can’t contain the small gasp he makes as Even’s hand comes so close to touching him.  “There seems to be one here, too,” Even adds, grinning as he looks into Isak’s eyes and shifts his thumb suggestively. “I wonder what we could do about those?”

And just like that, it’s okay.  Even’s here; he wants this too, he  _ feels _ this too.  Isak leans forward to kiss him and turns so they’re rubbing together.  There are clothes between them, and so the sensation is somewhat dulled from their earlier experience, but even so, Isak feels the heat building.  Even drags him closer, pulling Isak’s leg up over his own hip and Isak can’t contain the soft humming moan he makes this time. Even’s lips are whispering over his and it’s so  _ much. _  Even’s hand slips inside Isak’s boxers and grabs his ass, pressing them closer together.  

Feeling bold, Isak moves his own hand to the waistband and wriggles so that Even gets the idea.  They pull apart enough that Isak can slip the offending article off, and then it’s cool air against the heat and Isak can feel the fiery red that’s staining his cheeks now.  But Even seems to understand, because he’s encouraging Isak’s leg up over his hip again, and it’s so intense. Even’s still in his sweatpants, which makes Isak feel exposed, so the fact that they’re kissing again and Even’s large hand is back on his ass gives Isak some sense of modesty, as strange a thought as  _ that _ is in this moment.  Still, there’s an imbalance here which feels wrong, so Isak pushes at Even’s clothing.  He laughs against Isak’s lips, but wriggles obligingly until he too is naked from the waist down.  

Isak expects a repeat of this morning, but Even sits up, spreads his legs and holds a hand out to Isak with a wink.  Or, Isak thinks it’s supposed to be a wink; it looks more like a slow blink. It’s enough to distract him from Even sitting there, so unashamedly bare with his legs wide and his dick tall and dark against the pale skin of his legs and the white of his t-shirt.  Isak gulps, unsure of what he’s meant to do but he moves willingly enough, sitting up and raising his eyebrow at Even in question. Even snorts, takes Isak’s hands and tugs slightly, enough so Isak realizes he’s asking him to sit the same way Even is. He wriggles forward and hesitantly places his legs over Even’s.  Even pulls him forward then into a kiss, both heated and affectionate. Their dicks aren’t touching, and yet there’s flames running through Isak. His skin is on fire and he thinks he’s going to combust if someone doesn’t touch his dick soon. He wriggles gingerly, trying to get closer without putting too much weight on Even.

“I’m not breakable, you know,” Even says against Isak’s lips, making him snigger.  “You don’t have to be so careful with me.”

“Fuck you,” Isak says, and he’s breathless again, lost in the wonder of how it feels to kiss this boy this way.  But he does let his legs fall more comfortably so their weight rests on Even’s thighs.

“Yes, please,” Even says and Isak has to roll his eyes at how terrible that line is.  Despite that, his dick twitches at the idea and he surges closer to kiss Even again, more firmly this time.  The angle’s awkward, with their legs tangled together and their dicks now barely touching, but it’s almost enough.  Even’s hands have slid and are now rubbing on Isak’s thighs. The tips of Even’s fingers are skimming the sensitive spot where Isak’s leg meets his hip, and the waves of energy those fingers are sending through him are making Isak a little lightheaded.

Without really thinking, Isak reaches out and runs his own fingers up the length of Even’s dick.  His resulting gasp against Isak’s lips makes him smile. He takes Even more firmly in his hand and strokes upwards once.  Even drops his head to Isak’s neck and his hot breath on the sensitive skin makes Isak whine. In response, Even takes Isak’s dick in his hand and starts stroking too.  It’s long, slow strokes though, the grip light, and it’s maddening. So close to what Isak wants and yet not firm enough to give any real friction. He huffs out a laugh.

“You’re an asshole,” he says, pulling back so he can look in Even’s eyes.  He slows his own strokes and stops gripping so hard himself. Even groans in protest.  

“You brought it on yourself,” Isak says now, smirking as he leans forward to kiss Even.  His hand mirrors Even’s and they both sit there, kissing languidly while their hands make maddeningly slow strokes on each other.  

Eventually it becomes too much and Isak has to pull back from the kiss to lean his forehead against Even’s and just breathe through what’s happening.  He’s on fire; energy radiating out from his dick to every part of his body. But he’ll be damned if he lets Even win this one, and yes it’s a competition now.  It became one the moment Even decided to tease rather than to race to an end. Isak’s rewarded by a soft groan from Even as his hand tightens on Isak’s dick and his strokes become firmer.

Isak laughs as he follows Even’s lead.  “Never,” he manages to gasp as the sensations rocket through him and his breath comes in pants now as his tension builds to a head.  “Never try to … beat … the master, Even.”

He feels Even’s laugh against his ear and shivers at how intense it feels on his sensitized skin.  “Those are big words from someone who just started this a day ago.” Even’s voice is ragged too and Isak can feel the way his body is tensing under his hands.  It’s a race now, Isak stroking Even as fast as he can, hoping to send him over the edge. It seems Even is competing too, because his hand speeds up as well and it sounds like he’s trying to stifle his own gasps.

“Mmmm,” Isak agrees.  “I’m a fast …” he gasps and feels his own balls tensing as his body readies itself for its release.  “A fast learner.” He manages the last words, and hears Even’s laughter in response, just as his orgasm hits.  He buries his face in Even’s shoulder as the shockwaves cascade through him, and he feels rather than hears as Even follows him soon after, his body shaking in Isak’s arms and his legs tensed as he lets it roll through him.

They stay like that, hands on each other and noses buried in each other’s necks, until the shuddering stops and they’re relaxed again.  Isak moves his hands so he can hug Even, and he feels Even’s come up to surround him in turn. It should, by all rights, feel disgusting.  It should gross him out that his hand is covered in someone else’s come and he’s happily smearing it all over that someone else’s back as he pulls him in tight.  And that someone else is doing the same to him. And yet, it doesn’t. It feels good. And as good as the sex stuff feels, Isak almost likes this part better, the part where they bask together in the aftermath, sated and happy and content just to hold each other.

It’s not much later when Eskild knocks on the door and yells that they need to come out so he can know they’re still alive, since “we haven’t heard anything from you in hours, Baby Gay, and it’s not like you to miss food.”  Isak rolls his eyes in fond exasperation. He knows Eskild will have heard them moving around, running water, cleaning up. He just needs to be dramatic and interfering. Sighing, he sits up and glances down at Even. He’s still splayed out on the bed, legs taking up so much space you’d think he’d lived in this bed all his life, his hair all over the pillow in a wild mess and his eyes bright with laughter.

“I guess I should humor the guru,” Isak says.

“Yeah,” Even says, and he sighs, turning to swing his legs over the edge of the bed and letting them land on the floor with a thud before searching for his scattered clothes.   “I should go home. My parents will be wondering where I am.”

Isak pouts, unwilling to let Even out of his sight after these few heady hours together.  He’s back to feeling fragile and vulnerable, and wants nothing more than to keep Even here forever, wrapped up in the small bubble today has been.  “Do you have to go?”

“Yeah,” Even says, leaning over to kiss Isak as if he can sense the wrench Isak is feeling at the idea of parting.  He pulls back and the look Isak can see in his eyes suggests that he might be feeling it too. Even’s face falls as he continues.  “I think I have another serious talk coming.”

He grins at Isak, but Isak can see all the effort behind the words.  There’s a fear there, hiding behind the blithe happy exterior, and Isak’s heart breaks a little as he thinks about what that coming conversation is going to be like.  Even swallows, his eyes betraying a hard edge of tension as the grin falters a little. He doesn’t want to go and face it, then. And as hard as it is, there’s a tiny part of Isak that thrills to the idea that Even is facing this because he’s committed to him, to  _ them. _  Still, it’s clear that Even doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it, so Isak just holds out his hand and leads Even towards the exit.

Even moves through the door and steps outside, and immediately all the bravado Isak had been feeling leaves him.  Sadness seeps in. No matter what happens from now on, this snapshot in time is over. It will never again be the first time Even came over.  It will never again be the heady first day just lying together and talking about everything. Worse, Isak feels the cold chill of worry as he thinks about everything they’re going to have to face.  The out of archetype issue, the problem that homosexual relationships aren’t particularly accepted by many people unless there’s an archetype compatibility, the fear that Even might still be keeping things back from Isak.  And overshadowing all of that is the knowledge that Isak, too, has things he hasn’t mentioned yet. Things that probably need to be discussed sooner rather than later. Things that could cause problems and come back to bite him.

Something of his feeling must show in Isak’s eyes, because suddenly Even’s back and he’s pressing kisses all over Isak’s face.  No part of him is missed: his eyes, his ears, his nose, forehead, neck, even his hair. It’s ridiculous, but it’s so Even that Isak can feel his chest swell with the affection he feels and he’s giggling almost despite himself.  

“I want to stay,” Even mumbles through the kisses, and Isak laughs.

“I want you to stay,” he says.  

Somehow that means something to Even, because he’s grinning and pressing one last toe-curling kiss to Isak’s lips, and whispering,  “I’ve never felt anything like this before,” before he steps back, moving slowly backwards away from Isak.

“Neither have I,” Isak says, and it means something to him, too.  It means,  _ I’m all in. _  It means  _ I’m going to let you have the ability to break me. _  It means  _ I trust you. _  Even smiles, seeming to understand the enormity of the words.  The look in his eyes says he feels it all too.

“I have to go,” Even says, and the reluctance is clear in his voice and in the eyes that linger on Isak as he continues to move backwards.  

“I know,” Isak says, and he can’t help it.  He needs some reassurance that Even isn’t going to dissipate into mist as soon as he leaves this spot.  So he asks, “you’ll text?” If he texts, Isak will have something concrete that he can look at and know that Even is still here and still in this with him.

Even laughs, as if the mere idea that he wouldn’t is ridiculous.  “Of course.” 

Isak grins, feels the relief.  It’s stupid and he knows it, but there’s still the worry that this can’t possibly be real.  That Even can’t possibly be here and feel the same way. And yet he does.

Even surges back towards Isak for one more quick kiss, which sets flares alight in Isak from his chest right down to his toes.  He lets himself taste it, revel in it, knowing this is the last kiss for a while. His hands are wound around Even’s hair and all Isak can smell is Even, and the taste of his kiss is coffee and the weed they shared at some point that afternoon.  Isak thinks he’s never going to find a taste he likes better than this.

“Baby Gay! Have you disappeared now?” Eskild calls in a singsong voice, and the moment is broken.  

Reality crashes in again.  Even turns and leaves and Isak is forced to slip inside and face up to his very curious guru.  He’s sitting on the couch and he has Linn lying on the other one, her head on the arm and her eyes wide as she stares at Isak.  Eskild pats the seat beside him, and makes grabbing motions at Isak until he reluctantly moves to sit beside him. He’d rather be in his bedroom right now, wallowing in the knowledge that Even isn’t here with him.  But Eskild is determined and he rests one arm along the back of the couch behind Isak, as if he’s ready to grab if Isak even looks like he might try to leave. Isak sighs, resigned to more Godmothering.

“So, Baby Gay, you have yourself a man.”

Isak cringes.  The words are cheerful and supportive but there’s something in Eskild’s tone that makes Isak shiver.

“Mmmm,” he tries.  If he can be as noncommittal as he can, then maybe Eskild will leave him be.

“Not to be over protective,” Eskild starts, and Isak can’t hold in the snigger that escapes at the idea that even Eskild might think this is a bit over the top, but subsides quickly as Eskild’s face takes on a much more serious expression and he raises his eyebrow.  “Anyway … not to be over protective, Isak, but you will be careful?”

His voice is serious too, with none of the light teasing tone Eskild likes to use to make things easier when they have these discussions.  That alone makes Isak nervous and he twists his hands together, an anxious tic he’s picked up to try to calm himself in moments like these.

“I thought you liked him?” Isak says, and his hands are shaking a little.  He doesn’t need it, but it’s nice to have the approval of this man. More than his real parents, this is the person who takes care of him and whose opinion actually means more than Isak cares to admit.

“I do.  He seems very nice and he certainly makes you laugh.  Which is a good thing from my grumpy, sarcastic little baby gay.”  Eskild smiles kindly at Isak, and squeezes his hand in acknowledgement that this is a big thing for him.  “But, Isak. You have to keep his type in your mind. This isn’t a type that does well without its archetype pairing.”

Isak shakes his head, remembers the way Even was so scared of his own impending rage this morning, but also the way he managed to push it away, to hold it at bay for long enough to calm down.  

“I think it’s fine, Eskild,” he says.  “I mean … I’m a little worried, of course.  The last week wasn’t easy,” he acknowledges.  “But Even being a Beast isn’t one of my worries.”

“Hmmm,” Eskild says, looking at him with concern as if what Isak just said has confirmed every one of his worst suspicions.  “Are you sure this is not just newly sexed hormones talking?” He grimaces a little. “Because, you know that can have an effect …”

“Eskild, I’m not … this is not a conversation I’m having with you.”

“It wasn’t quiet,” Linn cuts in now.  “So we know there was a lot.”

Isak flushes, bright red, from the feel of the heat in his cheeks.  He can’t even bring himself to speak now, and Eskild takes the opportunity to nod.  

“Yes, thank you, Linn,” he says.  “It’s nice that you have someone, Isak, and that you’re enjoying your time with him.  But it is very important to keep these considerations in mind. Just … maybe don’t jump too quickly.”

It’s so awkward and cringey that Isak wants to be anywhere but here.  It’s nice that they’re concerned, of course, but it’s also horrifying just how invested they are in this.  It’s just Isak’s luck to be living with a Godmother and a Seer; the two types who are most likely to want to poke and interfere and think they know best for you.  

He drags his usual facade into play, and grins at the two of them, as cocky as he can manage to make himself.  It sits uneasily with him today, which is odd because before Even, this mask was as natural to Isak as breathing and he could deploy it at will.  The fact that it’s harder now, and that it doesn’t fit him as a second skin anymore, is a little alarming. But he pushes that thought aside and focuses on what he has to do to convince these people.

“It’s all good,” he says.  “I’m fine. And I’m an Outcast, Eskild.  You know we don’t trust easily. I’m not … not stupid enough to change that just because this one boy is pretty.”

“Mmmm,” Eskild says, looking him over carefully.  “He is very pretty, so I don’t blame you at all.” He pats Isak’s shoulder and nods.  “Okay, Baby Gay, I’ll let you be. Just know we’re here if you need us.”

“Yes,” adds Linn.  “And when things get tough, know you have people to turn to.  It’s all around you.”

“Thanks,” Isak says, smiling at her.  He knows this is one of her prophecies; the tone of her voice has alerted him to it.  So he’s extra wary now. Maybe there will be some hard times to come; much as he hates to believe her, Linn’s prophetic remarks are usually true in some way.  He can only hope this one is a long way in the future.

She sighs, and ducks her head into the couch.  “I’m tired now. I need to sleep.”

Understanding that as a dismissal, Isak excuses himself and makes his way through to his bedroom.  It’s cool in here, but the sheets hold a residual warmth, and there’s still a strong scent of Even on the pillow.  Isak buries his head in it and inhales, trying to recapture the moments they shared together. Images flash of loving kisses and warm cuddles.  But also of naked bodies and heated moans. Isak flushes as his body reacts to the memories, heat pooling in his belly and crimson rushing into his cheeks.  Now that Even’s not here, Isak misses him with an intensity that scares him.

Isak’s startled out of his thoughts by a sharp beep from his phone as it lights up.  The bubble he’s been in for the last 24 hours is truly gone, then. Sighing, Isak thumbs the phone open and groans.  As if she has a sixth sense where he’s concerned, his mother has sent him another of her regular religious messages. This one is an admonition to repent of all sins because the Lord will be watching everything.  Isak didn’t need another reminder that she’s almost certainly going to reject him when she knows what he’s really like, and yet here it is, the words stark black and white on his screen.

He flings the phone away from him in a petulant huff.  He stubbornly tries to tell himself that it doesn’t matter, that his mother and her religion have no sway over him, but he can’t quite bring himself to believe it.  These messages were so much a part of his everyday life growing up that Isak has trouble pushing them away. He  _ knows _ this is what the world thinks of relationships like his, and he also knows that many people take a dim view of being out of archetype on top of all that.  In an attempt to ignore the way the world is trying to sweep away the happiness of the last day, Isak decides he’s going to research.

He laughs softly to himself, knows Jonas would tease him about this, but he finds comfort in the scientific.  It makes everything make sense. So he looks up homosexuality, he looks up archetype pairings, looks up gay sex because he’s curious now that he has some experience.  It’s overwhelming, there’s too much information on all the topics, and Isak feels a headache coming on. He shouldn’t be doing this, really, not when he’s spent an entire day just lazing around with Even.  Not when his studies are already so intense that Isak is finding it hard to keep up. So, reluctantly, Isak bookmarks several sites which look promising.  _ Why archetype pairings are artificial.  How to talk to your family about what makes you different.  Archetypes and why they exist. Religion and archetypes. _  Several porn sites.  For future research. Isak blushes as he does it, still slightly disbelieving that ‘gay sex’ is a thing he can apply to himself, and not just something to look at in the abstract.

Still, he knows Jonas would kill him if he didn’t take things a little seriously and didn’t at least have an intention to talk about all his fears and worries with Even.  And maybe if he can research, and figure out what looks interesting and what maybe doesn’t, then Isak might be able to broach these subjects with Even. And then maybe they can also talk about the other important things that Isak is so scared to admit to.  

Despite closing the tabs because he’s intending to actually do some schoolwork, Isak finds himself restless when he tries to concentrate.  His body is keyed up, the phantom of Even’s hands are still whispering over his skin and Isak finds himself flushing and drifting into daydreams far too frequently.  So he eventually groans, pushes himself off his bed and sets about tidying his room. It’s been neglected for days, first because he was so miserable and second because Even was here and Isak had no intention of tidying when he could have been kissing and cuddling and doing other things instead.

He starts with the clothes scattered on the floor and tosses them into the laundry bin, grimacing when he gets to the t-shirt Even had used to clean up after their first sexual experience.  It’s crusty and unappealing and Isak wrinkles his nose as he pokes at the mess. It’s one of his favorite shirts, and now he’s going to have to investigate how to clean it properly, and Isak just knows Eskild will be insufferable if Isak asks  _ him. _  So he sets it aside carefully and immediately goes to the toilet.  Once is bad enough, but Isak is damned if he’s going to have to delicately wash any more of his clothes just because he can’t keep his hands off Even.  He returns with a fresh roll of toilet paper and places it carefully on his nightstand, blushing as he does so. The idea that he’s preparing for more time with Even feels so presumptuous, and yet it feels like he can.  There’s still the fear that all this will fall apart the way it already did once, but even so Isak feels like he’s in more solid territory. When Even left this evening, it definitely felt like they were on common ground, like they both agreed with what they wanted.  As a confirmation, Isak’s phone lights up again.

_ Hey, baby _

Isak smiles in delight at the endearment.  Baby. It’s so weird to see himself thought of in that way.  He can’t resist sending a heart back. He knows that if any of his friends saw it they’d never stop teasing him, but Isak doesn’t care.  And besides, he knows how stressed Even was about what was waiting for him at home. 

_ Hey <3  How were your parents? _

_ Awful.  They think I’m going to ruin your life. _

Isak freezes, his heart sinking.  He hates to imagine what that conversation must have been like.  Even’s words are low key and chill, but Isak can sense the frustration behind them.  

_ We’ll just have to show them different, then. _

The heart Even sends back makes Isak melt, before he rolls his eyes at the meme that accompanies it.  His mother isn’t likely to approve of anything between them, and reading between the lines Even’s parents definitely already don’t.  But they’re in this together and fuck if Isak’s going to let anyone else tell them what to do. 

Ignoring all the work he knows he still has to do, and the tidying he didn’t finish, Isak lies back down on his bed and spends the next hour or so sending messages back and forth to Even.  It’s memes and stupid puns. It’s little assurances of where they’ll meet at school. It’s heartfelt moments and banal observations. And by the time Isak is so tired he knows he should sleep, his worries have shrunk to nothing and he’s fairly sure this is all going to end up okay.

 

The shrill screech of his phone ringing wakes Isak the next morning and he groans.  What is it with people trying to contact him stupidly early on weekends? Fearful that it’s going to be Emma and he’ll have to make up some sort of new excuse for not meeting with her today, Isak contemplates ignoring it and letting it go to voicemail.  Then Eskild bangs on the wall and demands that he turn it off and Isak sighs.

When he answers it and hears his dad’s voice, Isak wishes he had just let it ring out.  He drags his best polite voice on and says, “hei, Pappa,” through gritted teeth.

“Isak,” his father says without preamble.  “You need to go see your mother.” Isak closes his eyes in pained acceptance.  There’s no  _ hi, kid, how are you?  How’s your year going? School start well? _  There’s no question about whether Isak’s seen his mother recently, just a bland assumption that he hasn’t and he needs his father to make him do the right thing.

“I saw her last week,” Isak starts.  “She’s fine …”

“You know as well as I do that’s not enough.  She’s not well, Isak; you need to make sure she’s doing okay.”

Stifling his urge to yell,  _ yeah well, who’s fault is it that she’s not doing so well? _ Isak sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.  “I don’t have time, Pappa. School’s much harder this year, and I might be able to get a scholarship if I work hard …”

There a derisive snort on the other end of the line and Isak has to hold back the sigh he knows would just make his father more aggressive.  He’s learned, over the years, that pushing this man about things he feels uncomfortable about just makes things worse, so Isak has learned to hold his tongue and keep his thoughts to himself.  “You know you don’t need any of that crap, Isak. Just … make some time. She needs her family.”

_ Crap, _ yeah okay.  It gets hard sometimes for Isak to ignore what his father says.  There’s a small part of him which believes this man should have some sort of authority.  That part of Isak wonders if all this study and getting ahead really is so important. The thought makes Isak angry enough that he pushes back a little.  His studies  _ are _ important, dammit, and he knows his father is only talking like this to get Isak doing what he wants.  It’s still hard to push through it.

“Why can’t you go see her?” Isak asks, his anger lending sharpness to his tone, even as he knows this is a futile line of inquiry.  His father always has some excuse why he can’t help, why it always has to be Isak to do the family duty. He’s extremely good at dodging responsibility with seemingly sensible reasons.

“You know she doesn’t like it when I’m there, Isak.  You don’t want to make her feel worse, do you?”

“No, Pappa,” Isak says, resigned.  He knows fighting it is going to be ultimately unsuccessful and will just serve to upset Isak more.  “I’ll … uh, I’ll try to see her later this week. Today, I have to study.”

There’s scorn in the huff his father makes now, and Isak cringes.  He’s thankful that his father only has these fits of familial accountability once every few months.  Talking to his father is so agonizing, and Isak wishes he never has to do it, but he’s acutely aware that the only reason he’s able to live away from his mother at all is because his father gives him money for rent.  The price for that, however, is these occasional phone calls to bully Isak into doing what his father should really be responsible for himself. Still. If Isak makes sure to see his mother again this week, and lets his father know, then he’s free for another few weeks.  That’s worth a little walking on eggshells for an hour or so.

“Well, just make sure you do.  It’s not good for her on her own.”

The flare of anger at those words takes Isak by surprise.  He’d thought by now that he was over this, over the way his father’s leaving had broken his mother.  But apparently being with Even has stirred up the old feelings again. Even seems to be able to control himself, control his Beast rages, but it’s been clear for a long time that Mamma can’t really.  Isak knows things weren’t great between them before his father left, and he knows objectively that it wasn’t all his father’s fault. But his mother is so far gone now, so incapable of controlling her own temper, that she’d probably be better off in some sort of care.  There are days when Isak thinks she should actually be in the facility where she works. Certainly, she needs more than Isak can give her. Not with his school and his studies, not with Even and all the new things Isak’s wanting to explore. And it makes him so fucking livid that his father is shirking all his responsibilities and insinuating that  _ Isak  _ should be the one to feel guilty for not doing enough for his mother.  He wants to hiss all his anger at his father, but necessity holds his tongue.  He needs his father’s money, so he can’t afford to piss him off, as much as he’d really love to.  So he just agrees and ends the call, too tired of all this stuff to even try to be warm. Not that his father seems all that desperate for a cheerful happy family bond either.

The call has unsettled Isak, so he’s not in a good frame of mind when he pulls his books towards him and tries to study.  The words swim in front of his eyes and he finds it hard to make any of them make sense. Wishing Sana was here, Isak grits his teeth and keeps going.  He needs to read this stuff by tomorrow or he’s going to fall behind. Again. So, regardless of how little sense it makes, Isak keeps plodding through it.  After a while, it does start to go in and he thinks he’s beginning to understand the concepts being taught. So of course, that’s when his phone lights up again.

_ Isak, my son.  Your pappa says you’re coming over on Wednesday.  I can make dinner again. _

Isak growls, irritated beyond belief that his father has done this.  It’s not like Isak wasn’t going to go, after all, even if it was just to get his father off his back.  There’s a sick feeling sitting in his throat as he thinks about the way he’s being manipulated and a tiny part of him wants to rebel and refuse to play his father’s game.  But he can’t bring himself to disappoint Mamma, so he texts back as cheerfully as he can and tries not to resent the forced time out of his own schedule.

_ Of course, Mamma.  I’ll be there at 18 _ .

Then Isak pushes the whole idea aside and forces himself to focus on his books.  He’s not allowing himself to contact Even until he’s read at least the chapter he needs for tomorrow.  It’s a sort of torture, but it works. Isak is able to focus, keep the information in his head finally, when he has a suitable reward at the end of it all.  He sniggers to himself when he realizes what’s happened. When did Isak become the person who is so caught up in his crush that the mere idea of not being able to see him or speak to him is enough to provide laser focus for his studies?  When the only way to avoid letting thoughts of what they’ve done together to intrude is to forbid himself contact until he’s actually done what he needs to. If he wasn’t so amused, Isak would be horrified by how pathetic he is. 

By the time Eskild calls him for dinner, Isak has successfully made it through that chapter and finished all his math homework too.  He feels suitably virtuous, and allows himself to text with Even for the rest of the day. He argues with himself that it’s good for him to have balance and that if he keeps trying to study he’ll start stressing and won’t be able to sleep, which he knows from experience is a terrible idea.  But deep down, he knows it’s all just because he really wants to talk to Even and get confirmation that he does still exist and he is still thinking of Isak. There’s still that small part of him which worries that this all means less to Even than it does to Isak. He’d fallen so hard and so fast that even though they’ve gotten past it, it’s not easy to completely eliminate the part of Isak that felt unworthy and betrayed because of all the things Even has kept from him.  So he sends memes and he laughs and he teases, and every small piece of contact eases his heart a little.   
  


At 7am on Monday, Isak’s out of bed and dressed and is carefully washing his face in the bathroom.  He’s humming a little and smiles as he examines his face in the mirror. This is apparently a face that Even wanted to spend time with on Saturday, a face that Even texted with all night on both Saturday and Sunday.  A face that Even says he can’t wait to see when he gets to school today. Isak can see the dazed delight in his own eyes at that thought and he flushes. He needs to get that under control before he gets to school. He’s not really up to everyone seeing a dramatic change in him after the way he’d been last week.  Of course, he could pretend it’s just because he’s actually managed to sleep over the last few days, but it would be better by far if Isak can just act as he usually does. He feels like  _ I’m so deep in this crush that I can’t see my way to the outside _ is stamped all over his face and everyone will be able to read everything he feels as soon as they see him.  He practices his usual cocky swagger and sarcastic scowl until he’s satisfied he can pass.

He wanders out to the kitchen and greets a startled Eskild with a quick hug.  So maybe this staying cool and aloof thing isn’t actually working as well as Isak had hoped.  He blushes when he realizes what he’s doing.

“Baby Gay, I love you very much, but it is very early and you are being very strange.”  Eskild grins as he presses a kiss to Isak’s cheek. “Go get your man; I know what this is all really about.”

Blushing even more, Isak grabs an apple and shoves another one into his backpack.  Then he’s out the door and hurrying towards school. It makes him laugh, comparing today to the morose silence he sat in the first day.  Then, he was filled with loathing for everyone and everything. Now, he wants the damn tram to get a fucking move on so he can finally see Even again.  It’s only been a day and yet the desire to touch him is itching in Isak’s fingertips and everything he sees out the window reminds him of Even.

It’s early when Isak gets to school, and there’s barely anyone else in sight, so he waits casually by Even’s locker because he can’t actually wait until a break to see him again.  He feels exposed, and notices every time someone’s eyes slide in his direction and register that he’s in an unusual place. Anxiety wars with anticipation in him and he almost runs.  But then, when he does finally see Even, it takes every inch of Isak’s willpower to keep his hands off him. He has to pull all his acting skills to the fore in order to look his usual confident, smug self.  Even’s delighted grin when he spots Isak threatens to ruin it all, however, and Isak can’t control the way his stupid face reacts to Even. There’s some kind of torture in the way Isak has to stay chill as they arrange to meet after school to ‘hang out’.  Isak’s fairly sure, though, that Even means something far less innocent when he says that, so he smirks as he nods and turns to head away into the school. It’s a small moment, but it’s enough to sustain Isak through the rest of the day. Though it has had the unfortunate side effect of reminding his body exactly what it’s enjoyed doing with Even over the weekend, and makes it extra hard for Isak to focus properly in class.

Sana grimaces at him when his mind drifts for the fifth time in Biology and she pokes him hard in the side.

“Ow, fuck,” he says, turning to glare at her.  “What was that for?”

“Pay attention,” she hisses, her voice angry and irritated.  “I’m sick of carrying your sorry ass in this class.”

Isak glares at her in return.  “You don’t carry me,” he whispers fiercely.  “I’m the fucking master of science.”

“Well prove it, asshole.  Do some of the work, and stop fantasizing about a certain someone.”

Irritation flooding through him, Isak aggressively grabs the book they’re supposed to be using to him and flips the pages.  It stings, a lot, that Sana is calling him on this. Usually, he  _ is _ the best at this.  She’s so self confident that she always believes she’s right, but too often she has the wrong end of the stick and it bothers him.  When they tease each other, it’s usually banter and Isak knows deep down that he does actually have a better handle on it than Sana does.  But today … today she’s right. He’s spaced out, unfocused and letting her do all the heavy lifting of the day’s assigned work. He’s embarrassed that he can’t keep his attention on his work, and that it’s all because of Even.

Worse, if he doesn’t manage all this better, he can kiss those scholarships goodbye.  He has to remember them, and remember why they’re important. But thoughts of Even, and memories of his hands and what they can do, keep trying to intrude so Isak fights a battle with himself for the rest of the lesson.  By the time it’s over, Sana is so frustrated with him she almost yells as she dumps her books into her bag and storms toward the door.

“Sort it out before next class, Isak,” she says her voice insistent and firm.  “Or I swear I will thump your head every time you get that stupid goofy look on your face.  You’re completely useless like this!”

Isak knows she’s right, and hopes that by tomorrow he’ll have a better grip on his stupid body.  Otherwise, this is all going to end in disaster. He needs the guaranteed six he always gets in this class if he’s going to have any hope of actually achieving his goals.  Otherwise, his grades might not be good enough. And as much as Isak would love for this thing with Even to be the center of his life, he knows he can’t let it affect him like this.  Maybe Eskild was right; maybe his hormones  _ are _ clouding his judgement.  It worries him enough that he resolves to do some research later, just to be sure.

“Hei, Isak!” a cheerful voice chirps as he moves away from the classroom and Isak has to close his eyes in frustration.  As much as he’d hated the studied anger and blatant cold shoulder he was getting last week, it had been infinitely preferable to this.  He opens his eyes and tries to smile at her as best he can.

“Emma.  Hi. Um … shouldn’t you be in class?”

He tries to make his voice as polite as he can, but the look Sana throws his way as she moves off suggests he’s not being entirely successful.  

“Oh, yes, probably.”  Emma waves one hand as if to say class isn’t all that important right now, and she hugs her books to her chest as she looks up at him.  Her eyes are bright and her expression open and eager. Isak feels like a complete asshole that he has such a shitty reaction to her when she’s really just trying to make a connection, as misguided as that is.  “I just wanted to say we missed you at our group, Isak. Mari and Lea were asking, you know … and …”

Isak freezes, every excuse he’d ever managed to come up with dying on his tongue out of disuse.  He used to be good at this, but ever since Even took over his brain, Isak has lost his ability to lie and put on an act.  He does his best, dragging a smile onto his face and trying not to show his disgust at the idea. The smile feels stiff and uneasy on his face and he’s sure she must be able to pick up on his discomfort.  But she just keeps smiling up at him.

“Oh, well … it’s been a bit shit lately,” Isak says, trying to think of something he can say to justify his behavior.  “For me, I mean. I haven’t really seen anyone ...”

Instead of making her back off, the words light up her eyes and her lips drop in sympathy.  “Oh, that’s too bad. You could … maybe share a bit with us. You know, Outcast to Outcast.”

Her eyes are shining at the idea, and she steps forward to run a hand along his arm to express that sympathy.  

Groaning internally and shuddering at her touch, Isak nods numbly.  “Maybe, yeah. I guess.”

“Isak!” Jonas’ voice booms out and Isak feels a hand clapping him on the back.  “Emma, hey,” Jonas adds. “You organizing things for your Outcast group?”

Emma beams at him and nods.  “I’ll text you, okay, Isak?” she says, smiling at him from under downcast lashes before finally turning to leave.

Jonas watches her then turns to Isak with raised eyebrows.  Isak shrugs, unwilling to really get into it.

“She still seems into you,” Jonas says, and there’s a hint of judgement in his voice.  Or maybe Isak’s just projecting. Either way, he groans as the bell rings and they’re forced to rush to their next class.

“I guess she is,” he says.  “I don’t know how to stop it.”

“Mmmm,” Jonas says as they push the door open and the teacher inside gives them a look which lets Isak know he’s on thin ice, again.  He sighs as they move to their seats.

“You need to try, bro,” Jonas says in a whisper.  “It’s not fair to her.”

Isak sighs again as he gets his books and computer out.  He knows it’s not fair to her, but he’s also aware that probably the only way to get her off his back is to tell her about Even.  And that’s not fair to  _ him. _  It’s scary, the idea that Isak has to out himself to people he doesn’t really expect to be supportive.  It’s all okay for Jonas; he doesn’t have to face this. When things went shit between him and Eva, no-one thought anything of it.  They hadn’t been in-archetype, and that had raised a few eyebrows, but in the end they were a boy and a girl and they’d tried and not quite made it.  There’d been sympathy and a bit of gossip, but overall they’d been left to it. Isak is under no illusions that being open about what’s happening with him and Even would be treated the same.

He tries to push the thought away and focus on his work.  After all, classes are more important than ever. His brain keeps snagging on Even, though, and he can’t focus properly.  Jonas notices and nudges his arm when he’s asked a question and doesn’t answer immediately. Struggling, Isak looks at the teacher in alarm, then swiftly tries to go back over what she’d been saying and drags something up that seems to satisfy her.  He sags in relief when she purses her lips, nods and then moves on.

“You’re so scattered bro, what’s the matter?” Jonas whispers when the teacher has started to explain something else.

Unwilling to admit that he’s so completely caught up in Even that everything else seems unimportant, Isak just shrugs again.  “I don’t know. I think maybe I need to work out.”

“Yeah,” Jonas sniggers, seeming to accept the idea at face value.  “It’s been so long since you did any, you’re getting soft and pudgy.”  He pokes at Isak’s middle making him squirm away. 

“Fuck you!  You’re no model of perfection yourself.”

Jonas laughs quietly and pushes Isak.  “You want to go to the gym then? Maybe after school?”

“I can’t today,” Isak says, and he’s appalled by how soft his voice goes when he says it and thinks about how he’s meeting Even and isn’t willing to give that up for anyone, not even Jonas.  He’s starting to understand why Jonas and Eva spent so much time together last year. To cover, he clears his throat awkwardly and adds, “but maybe tomorrow? I have to see Mamma on Wednesday.”

“Yeah, okay, bro.”

“Jonas.  Isak,” the teacher says, coming to stand by them again.  “You need to focus.”

Nodding, trying to look contrite, Isak focuses again on his books.  But even with his maximum effort, he’s finding it hard to stay in the moment.  For the rest of the day, Isak spends the entire time counting down the minutes until he can see Even again.  He surreptitiously checks his phone occasionally to be sure he got the time and place they agreed to meet right.  Then, as soon as the final bell goes, he leaps up, shoves his things in his bag and practically runs until he makes his way outside.  This is going to be a problem if he can’t get his scattered brain under control. That research into hormones and the like is starting to become urgent.

Isak spots them as soon as he leaves the school doors.  Even’s leaning on a wall next to Sana, who’s standing a couple of feet away from him, and staring at him with an intensity that looks almost intimidating.  Even certainly seems to think so; his hands are twisted together in front of his body and he looks serious as he leans towards her. She’s talking, her gestures sharp and forceful as she lectures him.  

Isak feels affection swelling up.  He can’t even remember why he and Sana started hanging out last year, just that their shared stubbornness and love of Biology had meant their friends started shoving them together when they got intense about it.  From there, Isak guesses it was just natural for them to fall into a pattern of bickering friendship to the point where Isak misses her if he has to study alone. It’s nice to see her with Even, too. Even sometimes seems quite lonely, as if he’s on the outskirts and is having trouble finding his feet in this new school.  For all that Even radiates calm confidence, Isak knows it’s not true. He’s learned how to read people who feel alienated in some ways, and Even is getting more relaxed, but he’s still not there yet. It’s most obvious in this place, though. School seems to be maybe a place where Even isn’t at ease much of the time. Not in the way he is when they’re at Isak’s home.

Isak’s heart leaps a little as Even looks up and catches his eye.  He smiles, allowing something of his feelings to show on his face as Even makes his way over to where he’s come to a halt.

“Hey, baby,” Even says when he’s close and Isak can feel the red starting to flood into his face.  Being called baby is still a novelty and it’s one he’s sure he’ll never get tired of hearing. There’s heat in Even’s gaze, too, and Isak finds himself drowning in his eyes again.  It’s always this way, and Isak wonders if this will ever get old, this feeling he gets when he sees Even and feels the weight of his gaze settling on his body.

Sana says something, but Isak is too lost in Even to register much beyond the sarcasm and the resigned tone.  The desire to get Even alone is flooding Isak and he wishes they could do more than just walk away together. His hands itch to reach out and touch, to slide down the soft skin of Even’s wrist, to run through his hair, to whisper over his lips.  But Isak can’t do any of that. All he can do is walk as close to Even as possible and get them home as fast as he can so he can give in to the desire to touch and hold and  _ claim. _

“Isak?” Even asks after a while.

“Yeah?”

“What are we?”

Isak stops walking and tries to process the question.  The usual stab of fear flows in but is immediately pushed away, because this is  _ Even _ and if he was going to break up there’s no way he’d do it like this.  “Huh?” is about all Isak is able to come up with. 

Even looks at him and his hands are shoved so far into his pockets and his feet are scuffing the pavement, his eyes are staring at the ground as if it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen, and he looks generally very unsettled.  He glances up, catches Isak’s eyes and smiles a little, a smile that goes straight to Isak’s heart and sits there.

“I mean … what do you want from this us thing?”

_ This us thing. _  Isak feels the joy spreading through him.  There’s an ‘us thing’ for Even to be asking about.  The confirmation makes Isak’s head spin.

“This us thing?  You’re so eloquent today,” Isak teases, trying to be as low key about this as he can.  If he’s too enthusiastic and excited then Even might just back away from the question. It’s a question which has something bright shining from behind it, and Isak doesn’t want Even to snatch it back if he makes a wrong move.  So he stays as chill as he can.

“Yeah.  Us. Are we … boyfriends?”

A grin spreads onto Isak’s face before he can catch it and push it down.  He’s trying hard to be casual about this. Because even if he’s dying inside with the sheer delight of this idea, Isak doesn’t want to show it.  Even’s done this before, he’s had a relationship before, and Isak needs to act as if this is an everyday thing for him too. He has to keep his cool, like this is a normal conversation that Isak’s totally used to.

Still, he can’t control the way his voice goes soft and fond as he says, “we can be.  If you want to be.”

“Oh, I really want to be,” Even says.

And suddenly, keeping it chill and calm doesn’t matter anymore because Even’s grin looks giddy, and his eyes are alight and the expression on his face says he can’t believe his luck.  And it’s all Isak needs to start walking again, as fast as he can, because going slow is now torture since all he wants to do is touch Even. 

All he can think as they make their way, their pace quickening with every step after they get off the tram, is  _ boyfriend.  Boyfriend. This is my boyfriend.  I have a boyfriend. _  The thoughts lend speed to his feet and lightness to his heart and he laughs out loud as the door to the apartment block appears in the distance and Even practically starts to run.

By the time they get home, Isak is close to exploding, so he slams the door shut behind them, uncaring if anyone else happens to be in the kollectiv but still breathes an internal sigh of relief when there’s no complaint from the direction of Linn’s room.  When they get to his room, Isak wastes no time at all in dragging Even into a deep kiss, and Even’s hands slip around to Isak’s back, tugging him as if he can’t get Isak close enough. Isak definitely knows that feeling. The kiss lasts for what seems like an eternity, until Isak’s gasping and his lips feel rough when he pulls back enough to smile at Even.  His body feels like molten lava and he’s not entirely sure how he’s going to stay upright if they keep this up for much longer. So he tilts his head in the direction of the bed, hoping Even will get the hint.

“Bed?” he asks, and his voice is raspy with the effort of speaking when all he wants to do is kiss and kiss and touch and touch.

“Definitely bed,” Even breathes, his voice hitching on the words.

It’s not elegant at all as they make their way over.  Isak can’t hold back, tugging on Even’s shirt as they move and almost causing them to topple over.  Even’s not much better, grasping at Isak’s clothes once he realizes what Isak is doing. The interruptions probably make the journey to the bed a lot slower that it might have been, but at least their chests are bare by the time they’re actually lying on the bed, panting as if they’ve run a race.

Even’s looking down at Isak, and he has his hands at the waistband of Isak’s pants.  He looks up, raising an eyebrow in query and Isak almost laughs. As if he doesn’t want this.  But he nods, and adds an enthusiastic, “yeah, please,” just so Even knows for sure that Isak wants this.  Then Isak’s jeans are being slid off his legs and the sudden release of pressure makes Isak even more aware of his boner straining against the tight fabric of his boxers.  Then those are gone too and Isak’s sighing his relief and shifting on the bed, desperate now for Even to touch him. 

Even seems to get it, his sixth sense where Isak is concerned kicks in and suddenly Isak feels a hot tongue running the length of his dick.  He hears the high pitched moan he makes as his whole body reacts to that one small touch. He would be horribly embarrassed if Even didn’t moan himself in response, the sounds going straight to Isak’s dick and making him quiver.  

“Can I?” Even asks, looking along Isak’s body at him with those blue eyes and his lips red from their kisses. 

“Fuck yes,” Isak says, and his only coherent thought is that he might just die if Even  _ doesn’t _ do it so it’s a good thing he wants to.

Even takes Isak’s dick into his mouth, just the tip at first and Isak nearly convulses off the bed.  It’s so much more than even a hand. Wet and hot and incredible as Even takes in more and Isak’s surrounded by the heat of his mouth and the swirling motions of his tongue.  Isak buries his hands in Even’s hair to try to keep himself connected to reality somehow. Because this is something he’s never felt before and it’s so much more intense than he’d ever imagined when he looked at porn to see what guys might do to each other.  

Isak can’t control the way his hands clasp Even’s hair and pull; he’s so lost in the sensations created by that tongue.  It’s not long before Isak can’t help himself; he cries Even’s name over and over as he nears his release. Even’s sucks start becoming less controlled and that lack of control sends Isak’s hips stuttering as he chases the feeling.  The unpredictability of every movement makes it even more intense; there’s no way to know what the tongue will do next or how far in Even will take him. 

“Even …”

It’s so much more than Isak had pictured when he’d looked at porn when he was curious and/or horny, so he’s having trouble focusing at all.  The sensations are swamping him, but he does notice when he gets near and in a panic he grips Even’s hair hard enough to produce a yelp.

“Even … I’m going to … fuck, I’m going to come.”

“Oh.” 

Even grins at him, and Isak has enough mental capacity left to notice that his hand is now firmly stroking him while Even kisses him through the orgasm that soon rips through him.  He’s shaking, his body so sensitized that the aftershocks seem to last for several long minutes, and Isak has to drop his face into Even’s shoulder to keep him in the moment as wave after wave crashes over him.  

“Fuck, that was … so fucking good.” Isak manages to gasp out into Even’s neck and he can feel the way Even shivers as the words whisper over his skin.

“Good,” Even says.  He caresses Isak’s cheeks with both hands, and leans in to kiss him again.  “I think I need to practice more, though.”

Isak laughs, pressing his forehead against Even’s.  He still feels worn out as he says, “that sounds good, but it might just kill me.”

He wriggles slightly, thinking he needs to find some comfortable way to lie so he can relax a little.  But then he feels Even’s dick hard against his thigh and he smiles, lifting his eyes to Even’s and seeing the quiet desperation in them.  His tiredness drops away and he grins. Determined to show off for once, in front of his new boyfriend  _ (boyfriend!  Isak has a boyfriend!  He had sex with his boyfriend!) _ , Isak takes advantage of Even being off guard, grabbing his leg and arm and expertly flipping him onto his back.  Years of painful practice with Jonas, while his crush still raged and wrestling was the only way Isak felt he could touch, have paid off now it seems.  The look in his eye suggests Even liked that a lot and Isak thinks that he might just have to explore that at a later date when he’s not keen to find out what his dick tastes like.

Isak kisses his way down Even’s body, because this is his  _ boyfriend, _ and that idea is still really amazing _. _  Isak gets to do this whenever he wants, he gets to explore this body as much as he likes.  It’s a heady feeling and Isak can’t stop grinning between the fluttery kisses he presses everywhere.  This nipple? Yeah, that’s his to play with. The spot just under Even’s belly button? That’s Isak’s too.  The dip as Even’s hip curves out a little? Isak’s. Everywhere he kisses, Isak feels a thrill. He’s allowed to do this because this body belongs to a person who’s agreed to be Isak’s boyfriend.  So Isak’s kisses land in the randomest of places because he feels a new permission to explore now that they’ve settled what they are to each other.

Even’s jeans and boxers are somehow obstructive, though.  Isak’s fingers are shaking a little as he works to free the button and slide the zip down.  Maybe it’s because Even is so hard he’s straining against his clothes and there’s less room to work with.  It’s a little intimidating, if Isak is honest. He’s going to take that dick in his mouth and as much as he wants this, it’s a big thing for him.  He feels a stab of fear as he finally frees Even and gets the offending clothing off the bed and onto the floor. What if he does this wrong? What if it’s somehow so bad it’s not nice for Even?  What if Isak fucks this up? But then there’s Even, writhing on the bed, his hips restless as Even moans something incomprehensible and Isak relaxes. It’s  _ Even _ , after all, and no matter what, Isak’s fairly sure Even’s not going to judge.  And whatever happens, they can work on it, together.

So Isak looks him in the eye as he takes him into his mouth and somehow that’s easier because the look he’s getting is so … lost?  So caught up in the feelings that Isak’s pretty sure he could be the worst at this and Even will still be okay. In fact, Isak recognizes that look; it’s the one Even wears when he’s so close to coming that it’s inevitable and he’s falling into his own head.  So Isak closes his eyes, focuses on the way this feels. Runs his tongue experimentally around the head and smiles at the strangled squawk that elicits. The smile becomes a smug smirk as Even’s hands bury themselves in Isak’s hair and he groans out Isak’s name, asking him to stop.

And then he gets to watch Even as he goes under.  He’s stroking Even’s dick as efficiently as he can, and Isak revels in the way Even tries to keep his eyes open and on Isak but can’t seem to stop them from drifting closed as he gets closer to his release.  His face shifts, expressions chasing each other over it as Even starts to come. His mouth drops open, his cheeks flush even more than they already are, his eyes crinkle the way Isak loves and then he’s gasping, shuddering as he lets go and Isak thinks he could sit here forever watching the way Even reacts to Isak and his touch.

Feeling a tiny bit creepy but too fascinated to look away, Isak watches as Even relaxes, as his heart rate returns to normal under Isak’s fingers, and his eyes return to focus as he smiles his breathtaking smile at Isak.  He doesn’t think he’ll ever get sick of watching the way Even’s face and body change depending on his mood and what they’re doing. There’s so much to learn, so much more to discover about Even and it’s so exciting that Isak knows he gets to do that now.  For as long as they both want to. Isak’s smiling as he tucks himself up into Even’s embrace, marvelling at the way Even’s body moves and adjusts to let him in, like it already feels like he belongs here.

“We need a better system,” Even says, and Isak hums lazily.  He’s not sure what Even’s talking about and doesn’t have enough energy to figure it out.

“I never want to move after, but then we end up lying around in this sticky mess.”

Isak laughs a little.  It’s true; they do always end up with a mess and little to no energy to actually deal with it.  So he’s proud of his foresight the other day. He waves a tired hand in the direction of his nightstand, trying to get Even’s attention on the toilet paper he’d put there earlier.  It’s maybe not the classiest solution, and it’s probably not the most effective, but it’s there and he’d thought about it. Even laughs, softly, as he grabs it and wipes the mess from Isak’s fingers.  His touch is gentle and Isak relaxes into it. 

“You came prepared, huh?”

“Shut up, asshole,” Isak says as he cuddles into Even again.  “I didn’t want to mess up another t-shirt.”

“Very wise,” Even says, and there’s fond affection in the teasing as he leans over to put the roll back in place.  “You’re my smart boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend,” Isak repeats.  He’ll never get over the thrill that word gives him.  He has a boyfriend! And not just any old boyfriend. He has  _ Even, _ the person who makes Isak feel the most at home, the most comfortable, the most present and connected.  He sighs softly, allowing himself to snuggle deeper into Even’s chest as sleep pulls him under.

 

Isak wakes a few hours later, disorientated and clutching at an empty bed.  His heart pounding, he sits up and scans the room in a frantic panic. It only slows when he spots Even sitting near the window in his boxers and a hoodie, sketching something in a small notebook.  His attention must have been caught when Isak sat up so abruptly because his eyes are resting on Isak now and they’re crinkled in that way that Isak adores.

“Hey, baby.  Good rest?” Even asks, and Isak smiles.

“It was okay,” he says, climbing off the bed and making his way over to Even.  Isak tucks up against him and wraps his arms around his waist. It’s nice to be able to do this, to know that he’s allowed.  He feels the brush of lips over his hair and can feel a lazy smile starting to form on his lips.

“I have to go home,” Even says after a few moments, making Isak’s smile slip a little.  “But I wondered if you want to come and have dinner with us?”

Isak tenses, knowing Even can feel it, knowing it will probably upset him, but the idea of meeting up with Even’s parents again after the way he left last time fills Isak with fear.  It’s no easier after Even’s text the other night, either. They think Even’s going to ruin Isak’s life. On the surface that suggests that they think kindly of Isak, but there’s an undercurrent left over from that last meeting that sits uneasily with Isak.

“Ehm … I … uh …”

Even laughs.  “I know it’s shitty, and they’re probably going to be assholes, but I don’t want them to scare us away.”

There’s steel in Even’s voice and Isak feels like there’s something sitting behind this seemingly banal request.  He squints at Even, trying to trace the thoughts in the expressions that flicker on his face. “They could be assholes?  They didn’t seem like it, when …”

“Yeah,” Even says, squeezing a little tighter and his smile becomes tight and almost unconvincing.  “Or, my dad’s okay. But my mother … she …” he takes a deep breath and smiles at Isak, his eyes beseeching.  “Well, she tried to tell me you couldn’t come over.”

Isak pulls back a little and stares at him.  “You want me to go to your place? When your mother doesn’t want me there?”

“It sounds bad when you say it like that,” he says, kissing Isak under his chin and making his knees weak.  “But if they really knew you, they’d … maybe they’d change their minds.” He growls a little, frustrated. “They don’t  _ get _ it, and I need them to.”

“Even,” Isak sighs.  “I don’t know if I can.  Not for dinner anyway.” He kisses Even now, trying to make him feel less like this is a rejection.  Even’s lips hover on his and he breathes in sadly before caressing Isak’s cheeks. To lessen the sting, Isak adds, “I’m doing something with Jonas after school tomorrow, and I could maybe come by after that, though?  It might be a start.”

Even sighs again, and his eyes are huge pools of blue sadness.  “But if you don’t come today, I won’t see you today,” he says. It’s obvious that he’s trying to be silly, adding a whining tone to his voice and acting petulant.  But there’s an underlying trace of truth and Isak can feel its sting. He doesn’t want to let Even go either, and he can see how hard it is for Even to leave without Isak.  How much he wants this to all work out and go the way he wants it to.

It’s hard for Isak too, and he wishes it could be different as he pulls Even closer again.  “I just can’t, Even,” he says. “I’m sorry.” He wishes he could be stronger and face this. But he isn’t and he can’t.  Knowing they don’t approve makes Isak’s insides freeze and no matter how much bravado he has about ‘showing them all’ right now, in the face of actually doing it, he finds he can’t.

“I know,” Even sighs as he holds Isak for a few more moments.  “I’ll text you, okay? And I would love to see you tomorrow.”

Isak swallows as he steps back a little to allow Even to get dressed.  But he can’t let this go, and once Even has shrugged on his jeans and gathered up his school bag, Isak finds he wants more.  So he wraps his arms around Even again and wrestles him to the bed. The bag drops beside them as Even’s hands fall naturally to their usual place on Isak’s hips.

“Oh, it’s like that is it?  Can’t wait for more?”

“Shut up, asshole,” Isak says, grinning and sitting up so he can straddle Even’s hips again.  “I just want a cuddle before you go. To tide me over, you know.”

“Mmmm, storing up cuddles.”  Even pretends to think for a moment, earning a shove from Isak and giggling as he pulls Isak down into his arms.  “You demand a lot. That’s a big sacrifice you’re asking of me.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it too,” Isak says into his neck, feeling the way Even’s body shakes as he laughs.  

They lie like that for a few minutes, Isak enjoying the way Even’s hair feels as he lets it run through his fingers, and Even running his fingers absentmindedly up and down Isak’s arms and back.   It’s so nice, just feeling Even’s heart, strong and sturdy under his chest, and the way his breath tickles Isak’s cheek every now and then. It settles him a little, but too soon Isak’s stomach rumbles and Even pushes him off with a reluctant groan.

“I really have to go now,” he says, and Isak sighs and nods.  

It’s not getting any easier to let him go, but eventually they do part and Isak eats something just because he knows he has to.  He’s hungry but food doesn’t really appeal, and in some ways he thinks he should have gone to Even’s. At least there, he’d have had Even to tease him into some sort of a good mood.  Here, there’s only his textbooks and the stress of trying to understand his studies. 

That night he tosses in his bed, wishing Even was here because that seems to be the only way he manages to sleep well these days.  He regrets his nap earlier now too. As great as it had been to snuggle into Even, it’s meant that Isak is now wide awake and unable to sleep.  His eyes are itchy with the strain, and all Isak wants to do is let them slide shut and close off the world. But whenever he does, his brain starts whirling and he can’t control the thoughts that intrude.  It’s a weird mix of scholarship worries, teachers starting to react to him the same way they did last year, and Even and his parents’ disapproval. Whenever Isak successfully manages to make his brain switch off from one thing, it fixates on another, and on it goes.  Groaning, he shoves his head under his pillow and tries to force his body to sleep. Hoping that sheer willpower will overcome this. He falls into an uneasy doze a few hours later, only to wake with his alarm, feeling sluggish and unready for the day.

By the time he meets with Jonas after school Isak is so exhausted he thinks he should just cancel, but he also knows that working out often works to calm him.  And anyway, if he does this he can see Even afterwards; if he doesn’t he has to find something else to do before he goes over there. So he puts on his best act, teasing Jonas for being a slow asshole as they make their way to the gym they’ve been using for so many years now Isak has lost count.

Once there, and following his program, Isak finds the world shrinks.  It’s just him and the machines. Sweat slowly builds on his skin and pools in the small of his back, and Isak remembers the enjoyment he gets from this, wonders why it’s been so long since he came here.  When he’s here, everything just falls away, and it really does become just him and his body, repeating the same movement until his muscles are straining and it feels like he can’t do anymore. Then it’s on to the next one and the same thing again.  His mind slows and he’s able to zone out, pushing everything away and keeping himself in the moment.

Jonas has always laughed at him when he gets like this, but this is one of the few places where Isak can feel truly centered.  He repeats each movement time and time again until his arms are burning and his legs are wobbly. Despite his lack of sleep, Isak is feeling energised when he finishes, and he can’t wait to finally see Even again after almost a day apart so he just punches Jonas lightly on the arm to let him know he’s leaving.  Jonas, who’s still running slowly on a treadmill, nods his understanding, pulls one earbud out and asks, “you want to come for dinner?”

Isak shakes his head, mouths, “Even,” and turns to leave, but not before he catches Jonas’s smug smirk and eyeroll as he puts the earbud back in and refocuses on his run.

The trip to Even’s place is stressful as Isak worries about everything Even told him about his mother’s attitudes to Isak being there.  Thankfully, Even seems to understand because when Isak texts him asking which tram to take, Even spends the entire time between then and Isak’s arrival sending him ever stupider memes.  It becomes a competition of who can send the dumbest meme, and by the time he gets to Even’s Isak is feeling at least marginally better. 

He’s greeted by Even at the door, and even Isak can sense the tension surrounding him.  His face is drawn and there’s a trace of anger in the lines around his mouth, but Even is as sweet to Isak as he always is, pressing a kiss to his lips and stepping back to welcome him inside.  Isak swallows awkwardly as he enters and takes his shoes off. Even squeezes his arm reassuringly and leads him into the kitchen. Even’s mother is there and she looks forbidding, her mouth drawn into a thin line and her eyes sharp.  Isak glances at Even and sees the stiff tension in his body. Unsure what to do, he stops moving and lets Even take the lead.

Even ostentatiously makes them coffee and then smiles sweetly at his mother with both cups in his hands.  “We’re just going to my room, okay?”

She stands then, looking fiercer than Isak has seen her before.  “No, Even, that’s not okay. I told you I wouldn’t tolerate this … this …  _ thing _ you have happening under my roof.”  She takes in a deep breath, clearly trying to get herself under control and Isak feels a stab of fear again.  When his mother gets like this, things get very difficult very fast. He tenses, ready to bolt if Even’s mother looks like she might lose control.  But she just sucks in an angry breath and speaks in a harsh tone. “You’ll stay here or in the living room, and that’s that.”

“But …”

“But nothing, Even.  If you thought I was joking or lying, you were wrong.”

Even growls, his back rigid and his eyes fixed on his mother.  He obviously wants to argue, but she stares him down. It’s fascinating, and in any other moment Isak might be inclined to trace the biological impulses happening here, the way the mother is clearly dominant over the offspring.  But right now, it’s terrifying and Isak steps quickly up to Even to take one of the cups and he slides into place at the table, desperately indicating with his eyes to Even that he should come too. Eventually he does, stiffly and with clear reluctance, setting his cup down and glaring at his mother as he wraps one arm around Isak’s shoulder and draws him into his side.

So Isak sits, awkwardly, drinks his coffee and tries to talk as naturally to Even as he can.  But Even’s mother is a dampening presence. She doesn’t sit with them and she never interacts, but she’s there.  She prepares dinner and the insistent hissing of the knife as it slices through the vegetables is ever present, making even the most desperate attempts at conversation difficult to follow through.  There’s an ominous metaphor in the way she slices; she’s making a point about things being split apart with every aggressive cut she makes, and Isak takes on board all the pointed disdain she’s feeling.  Her disapproval is so palpable that Isak feels tension creeping further and further into his body as they talk. Eventually, Even sighs and rolls his eyes. He leads Isak out into the hallway where Isak is finally able to relax a little.  He sags against Even and sighs.

“That went well,” Even says, his eyes crinkling at his own joke and Isak huffs a disbelieving laugh.

“That was the most awkward thing ever,” he says, wrapping his arms around Even and holding him close.  Even’s arms feel secure and safe, even though this place is starting to feel like Isak’s nemesis. Even kisses him then, a long one that promises it will be better next time, one that apologises for the way his mother behaved.  One that eventually suggests they should continue this elsewhere.

Isak pulls back, laughing.  “I wish you could come with me,” he says.

“I wish I could too.  But I could … maybe … come tomorrow?”

Until he said it, Isak hasn’t realized how much he desperately wanted Even to ask exactly that.  He tightens his arms and nods. “I’d like that,” he says. “I have to see Mamma tomorrow for dinner, but you could come after that.”

He wants Even there, Isak realizes.  The idea of facing mamma is so much less stressful if he knows he can sink into his boyfriend’s arms afterwards and let all the anxiety fade away.  Today has proven several things to Isak: that he’s scarily obsessed with Even even now, that he has to get it under control if his schoolwork isn’t to suffer, that the rest of the world is not going to let this be easy, and that telling himself  _ fuck it, I’m not letting them affect me _ is easier said than done.  Then Even kisses him again, and as he lets himself melt into it, Isak also realizes that at least he’s not in this alone.  Outcast or not, bond or not, Even is right here in this with him. For the first time, Isak feels like he doesn’t have to face any of this stuff by himself.  It’s not just him scowling as he takes on the world. 

He lets himself think about that as he sits on the tram and heads home.  He’s so used to having to do everything by himself that this idea that he’s  _ allowed _ to rely on someone else is so alien.  From his father’s absence to his mother’s rages, from his friends’ inability to truly  _ get _ him to society’s thoughts about people like .. well, people like him, Isak has never really known what it’s like to be truly part of a team.  The idea is fascinating, but it’s also scary, because admitting that means admitting that Even really does have the power to hurt Isak and that Isak is committing to handing his trust over to someone who has broken it before.  But most of all it’s exhilarating, because Isak has always been on the sidelines, left out either by choice or by fate, and this idea that someone is there with him … well, that’s so bright and new it almost overwhelms him. He has a boyfriend now, and that  _ means _ something.


	5. Chapter 5

Isak takes a deep breath and shakes his hands out, a small moment of procrastination before he faces the evening.  He looks up at the building in front of him and lets the breath out as slowly as he can. Even so, he can feel his heart racing and his stress levels rising.   _ It’s just adrenaline and cortisol, _ Isak tells himself firmly as he pushes the bell asking to be let in.   _ Fight or flight, a natural response to a natural phenomenon. _  The door clicks and he is able to push his way into the building and make his way up the stairs.  Knowing the science behind it does make it a bit easier to understand, but that doesn’t stop the pounding of his heart or the way his feet are poised to run.  He doesn’t though. He carefully takes his shoes off and lines them up inside the door, taking a few moments to make sure they’re perfect. Isak knows he’s procrastinating, but the small act centers him and allows him to pull on his mask, and make his way through to the kitchen where his mother is bustling around with a smile and a wink.

She looks tired, he thinks, her shoulders drooped low and her face pale and listless with deep lines etched under her eyes and a sad tilt to her mouth.  Isak’s heart sinks. It’s never good when she’s like this. It’s either because things are going badly at the shelter where she volunteers, or because she’s coming into or moving out of a rage.  Neither thing particularly appeals to him tonight. He’s still exhausted himself, sleep having eluded him for the second night in a row. Consequently, his head is swimming, he’s finding focus hard and he’s unsure if he’d be able to deal with it if his mother does fall into a rage.  The anxious beating of his heart picks up another notch. Isak’s just going to have to be extra careful what he says to her today.

“Hei, Mamma.  This looks good,” he says as he indicates the table between them.  She’s placed carrots, cauliflower, boiled potatoes and a jug of hot steaming sauce on the table, and is just now bringing the lamb over to be set down in pride of place in the middle.

Her face lights up and she beams at him as she sets it down, her face looking suddenly years younger than it had when Isak arrived.  “Isak. You charmer; you always know what to say.”

He shrugs, grinning at her as he sits where she indicates.  She passes him a glass filled with cola, smiling as he acknowledges with a nod how well she knows his preferences, and asks him to bless the food.

This is the bit Isak always finds the hardest; asking a being he doesn’t believe in, and who probably wouldn’t care about Isak if he did exist, to bless his food seems like the height of hypocrisy.  But Mamma is staring at him with bright expectant eyes and her hands already clasped under her chin. So Isak sighs, bows his head and obliges her.

Then they’re eating and the silence between them is painful, so Isak tries to fill it with chatter about his week.  He tells her about the tests he has coming up and that he went to the gym with Jonas and thinks he mights start going regularly again.  He doesn’t tell her about his lack of sleep or his worries about school. He can’t even mention Even’s name, he’s so paranoid she’ll figure it all out if he says even that much.  So he finishes with a small funny story about Eskild and his latest Grindr encounter.

His mamma stops eating then, sets down her fork and knife, and looks at him with stern eyes.  “Isak, you wouldn’t use something that filthy and filled with infidels, would you?”

Images of the porn sites Isak bookmarked for research flash in front of his eyes and he almost chokes on his food before he’s able to finally ask, “like … like Grindr, Mamma?”

She shakes her head.  “Any of those things,” she says.  “Those internet sites with their immoral people and unnatural behaviors.”

“Oh,” Isak says, swallowing, all his appetite gone now.  “No, Mamma. I don’t go on those sites.”

_ Liar, _ his brain screams at him.   _ You even used Grindr once, _ but he shushes it, trying hard to maintain his composure.  It hurts, even though he’s been expecting it, to hear his mother talking about people like him as filthy, as immoral and unnatural.  Tears prickle behind his eyelids and he finds his mouth scratchy and dry. Hastily, he takes a long sip of his drink and then excuses himself to the bathroom.

After using the toilet, Isak splashes water on his face, trying to steady the shaking of his hands and the quivering of his lips before he goes back to face his mother.  It’s not like he didn’t know this would be her attitude. It’s not even like she hasn’t said things like this before. It’s just that she’s never said them before when Isak had a real live flesh and blood boyfriend.  She’s never said them when Isak has himself indulged in actual ‘immoral and unnatural’ behavior. She’s never said them when they could apply so specifically to Isak, and it hurts more than he’d expected now that she has.  

Back in the kitchen, Isak finds it harder than ever to drag his usual face on.  The slightly tilted jaw is harder to maintain, and the smile keeps fading whenever Isak isn’t concentrating on keeping it in place.  He knows his mask is slipping dangerously when his mother starts to look at him in concern.

“Are you sick, Isak?” she asks finally, and he jumps, startled out of his morose thoughts by her voice.

“Oh.  No. Sorry, Mamma.  I’m not sick. Just … a little tired.  I should sleep early tonight I think.”

She reaches a hand over the table to feel his forehead and pats it gently when she’s satisfied.  “You make sure you do. Sleeping is such an important part of a healthy life, Isak. The Lord gives us only one body; it’s up to us to look after it.”

Dragging another smile onto his face, Isak agrees.  To appease her, he forces down a few more bites as he listens to her talk about the people she’s helping.  It’s hard to concentrate on what she’s saying, as immersed in his own fears as Isak is, but some of it gets through.

“... then he broke down, Isak.  He’d been so strong for so long, but that one small act of kindness was enough to bring it all out of him.”  She smiles, looking serene. “It’s hard sometimes, but there’s worth in it when someone is able to truly be themselves and find freedom and joy, you know?”

Swallowing, Isak nods.  Misery is lodged in his own throat as he thinks about how he can’t tell her.  He can’t let her know that he isn’t his true self, and probably never will be when he’s around her.  It hurts too much to see the bright joy on her face as she talks about this man she is leading to salvation.  It hurts because Isak will never have that, and he will never see that look from her directed at him. Because he’s diseased.  Outcast. Immoral and unnatural.

Unable to maintain his composure any longer, Isak sets his napkin down on the table and pushes back his chair.  He’s been here for less than an hour, and he knows it’s rude to do this but he’s finding it too difficult to keep his tears inside.  There’s a lump in his throat and he knows it’s only a matter of time before he can’t hide it from her anymore. So he walks around the table and kisses her cheek.

“Mamma, I’m sorry,” he says, trying to keep his voice light and unaffected.  “I have study to do for tomorrow, and I need to sleep tonight, so …”

She smiles her understanding and says, “of course.  Your studies are important too. It was lovely to see you again so soon.”

Isak swallows back the emotion that swells up at her words.  She looks tired too, and so pleased that he did come back to see her, and he wishes he could do more for her.  But he knows if he comes back here permanently it will all descend into chaos again. He feels guilty, but he can’t cope with that life again.  Particularly not now that there’s Even, and the huge chasm in values that he represents, between Isak and his mother. If he’s living here, he’ll be forced to go back to hiding, and he knows it’s just a matter of time before she finds out and her attitude to him will change forever.

“It was good to see you too, Mamma.”

The lie sits uneasily on his tongue.  He loves his mother, but this time with her today was too hard and Isak’s not sure how soon he’ll be able to come again.  It’s too hard keeping so much of importance from her and skirting the mere mention of his boyfriend.

“Here,” she says, rising from the table herself.  “Take some of this back to that kollektiv of yours.  There’s too much here for just me, and I’m sure that boy doesn’t cook proper food.”

Isak knows better than to argue with her about Eskild’s abilities.  As a Godmother, he’s perfectly capable of making nutritious food for everyone who enters the kollectiv.  In fact, he’s downright insistent on it. But she has her prejudices, and one of them is that young people, and particularly young men, can’t be trusted to look after themselves.  So instead, Isak smiles at his mother, kisses her again and takes the proffered food. Eskild and Linn will enjoy it anyway, even if they could easily make their own.

Isak’s exhausted as he sits on the tram to get home, the food sitting awkwardly on his knee as he stares out the window.  It’s almost dark, and the lights are starting to come on, flickering in the corner of his eye as he sinks into his own thoughts.  It sits heavy on his heart that this is one more thing he has to keep from his mother. They avoided a rage tonight, and she was pleasant as far as she could be, but underlying it all is Isak’s newfound visceral understanding of exactly how hard this is going to be with Mamma.  He’s always felt that sense of unease around her, like he has to watch what he says every moment they’re together in case he triggers a rage accidentally. But now it’s much worse. Now, merely by being who he is, Isak could set her off. Worse, just by being himself, Isak could cut her off from him forever.

His phone beeps and Isak is happy to be drawn out of his mind.

_ On my way over now baby _

Warmth floods him as he reads the words, and Isak can’t contain the small smile that flickers onto his face despite all his efforts to stay calm and aloof.  He quickly sends a message back.

_ I’m on the tram.  Be there soon <3 _

Then, for good measure, and to make sure he stays off his back, Isak sends a quick message to his father letting him know he’s been to see Mamma and that she’s doing well.  After that, he allows himself to focus on Even, pushing all the shit with his parents out of his mind. He leans his head on the window and lets his thoughts drift to Even and his beautiful lips and crinkly eyes, his eager affection and his infectious laugh.  The tram rattles on, jostling Isak occasionally, but the soft smile remains and the memories of Even sustain him. By the time he gets back to the kollectiv and falls into Even’s arms, Isak is feeling much more at ease, so he’s able to brush off Eskild’s questions about dinner with a smile and a laugh, dragging Even into his room.

He drops onto the bed and flings himself backwards.  Even slides on after him and gathers him into his arms, kisses him behind the ear, making warmth flood through Isak, radiating out from that one tiny point.

“How was it really, baby?”

“Mmmm?” Isak asks in a pleased hum as he tilts his head further to give Even more room to access with his lips.  Even laughs softly and obliges, trailing kisses from Isak’s ear right down to his jaw.

“Dinner with your mother,” Even clarifies.  “You seemed tense when you got home.”

Isak sighs, turns a little so he can see Even.  “It was okay,” he lies. “But all I could think about was you.”  He presses a kiss to Even’s lips, lets it linger. Lets his own lips catch on Even’s, snag a little on the rough patches of Even’s lips, lets himself feel every tiny connection between them.  Even looks dazed by the time Isak pulls back enough to speak again. “I couldn’t focus properly; she thought I was sick.” He laughs, self consciously. “So I told her I have to study and I left.”

“I like your study,” Even says, kissing him again, letting his lips move down Isak’s neck until they hover at the point where Isak can feel his heartbeat pulsing frantically under his skin.  His breath hitches as Even lets his mouth skim over that point.

“I … uh …” Isak manages to get out, his hands clutching Even’s shoulders.  “I can’t focus on anything …” he gasps as Even’s lips move again, slipping down until they’re mouthing at his collarbone.  Isak feels like he’s filled with molten wax as he tilts his head more, inviting Even to continue. “Ever.” He huffs out a frustrated groaning laugh as Even raises his head instead, and looks down into Isak’s eyes.  “It’s … a bit of a problem, at school.”

“Hmmm,” Even says, his eyes filled with affectionate laughter.  “Are you telling me that my studious boyfriend is having sexy thoughts about me at school?”

His fingers drift down Isak’s side, carefully, delicately, leaving trails of fiery heat in their wake, and Isak has to laugh at the faux innocence in his expression compared to what his hands are doing.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Isak says.  “I actually want ... “ his breath hitches again as Even’s fingers skim over the front of his jeans.  “I want to do a bit of research. Figure out how to turn it off and concentrate.”

Even laughs, but there’s nothing malicious in it, just pure joy.  “Baby, I don’t think it works like that,” he says.

“Well, it should,” Isak says, feeling stubborn.  “It’s not fair that it’s not doing the same to you.”

Even kisses him again then, firmer this time with his lips coaxing and his chest warm against Isak’s until Isak really is a puddle of wax.  “Who says it isn’t?” he asks when he pulls back, and Isak can only stare at him incredulously, trying to take that in. “All I can think of is you; I get boners in most of my classes just thinking about you.  It’s a bit inconvenient.”

Isak laughs again, giving in to the way he’s feeling, the way Even makes it all okay.  He pushes all the worries and anxieties away and lets himself just be. It works for a while.  He allows himself to be distracted in the best way, and it’s easy to be here like this, dazed and relaxed, wrapped up in Even and not caring about the outside world for a few brief moments and hours.

But then Even’s sleeping and Isak is restless, questions still burning in his mind and stress over his mother tapping at his conscience and keeping sleep at bay.  So he slips as quietly as he can out from under Even’s arm and tiptoes to the desk where his laptop is lying. As much as Even has said it doesn’t work that way, Isak needs to know.  So he boots it up and starts googling.  _ Sex hormones. Male hormones in orgasm. _ It’s not a lot of help, not really.   But it seems Eskild is at least partly right.  

The release of oxytocin really fucks with you.  Testosterone makes you want sex and oxytocin makes you want it again after you’ve had it,  _ and _ apparently makes you give even more of a shit about the person you’re with.  Isak glares at the screen. None of this is  _ helping _ .  The goddam brain doesn’t help either, apparently.  It likes all the things the hormones do to it so it likes to dwell on it and then that triggers another release of hormones.  Getting boners in class from thinking about it, maybe even  _ coming _ in class just from thinking about it, is also entirely possible.  The very thought sets a spike of anxiety running through Isak. It’s a goddam vicious cycle, Isak thinks, and he doesn’t want any of it.  

Apparently there’s no way out but through, though, so Isak’s doomed to being a scattered, hormonal mess for however long it takes for his body to get used to what it does with Even’s body.  And that could be a while since, apparently, late teens are the years when males are most easily aroused and want sex most often. Which is great in one way, Isak thinks. Really really great, and Isak’s not exactly complaining about that side of it.  But in another way … it’s probably going to fuck up Isak’s school life for some time to come and he’s going to have to work out something to do about it.

He glances back towards the bed and his heart melts a little.  It’s not that it’s bad, exactly. It’s just that Isak had plans for this year and they didn’t involve being constantly diverted away from his studies by his rogue biology.  He wishes there was some way he could switch it all off when he needed to focus, but looking at Even he knows he wouldn’t change this for anything. Even’s lying sprawled out in the bed, one arm flung up above his head and the other resting on his stomach.  His chest rises and falls softly and his mouth is slack and slightly open. The ache it sets in Isak’s chest to see him like this, so vulnerable and trusting, is almost painful in its intensity. He crawls back into bed and cuddles back into Even’s side. The arm that had been above his head slips down and tightens on Isak’s waist as he props his head on Even’s shoulder, places his own arm across Even’s chest and lets his leg settle into its accustomed place hooked over Even’s.

Lying here, listening to Even’s heart beating in a gentle rhythm, Isak manages to relax and let the fears slip away.  His own breathing evens out, and he can feel his body slipping comfortably into sleep as he feels Even’s chest move under his ear and his fingers run soothing patterns on Even’s skin.  Whatever it takes, Isak’s willing to do it. School. His mother. These are things that he’s going to worry about later. Right now, being with Even is all that matters.

 

Isak wakes to an empty bed and cold sheets again, but this time he’s attuned to the nuances of the kollektiv and he senses rather than hears the rumble of voices from the kitchen.  So this time there’s just a sense of contentment and a smile as he stretches luxuriously before getting up and making his way through. Sure enough, Even is standing at the stove, cooking eggs while Eskild hovers behind him looking over his shoulder in avid fascination.  Isak leans against the doorframe watching them for a few moments. He loves this, loves the ease with which Even has slotted into this place and with these people. He’s laughing now, turning his head to look at Eskild and his eyes are crinkled and his smile wide and unconstrained.

Maybe it’s the hormones talking (god knows there’ve been enough of them over the last week), but Isak is so close to blurting out a love that he knows is too early.  It might not even  _ be _ love; those damn hormones have a way of affecting the way you feel, after all.  So he keeps his mouth shut, lets himself feel the bliss but doesn’t let himself think in those terms.  It’s lust, infatuation, ‘newly sexed hormones’ as Eskild had suggested. He pushes off from the door and moves to kiss Even’s cheek, his fingers lingering as they press against Even’s lower back.  Even’s eyes light up when they catch on his and he turns so he can kiss him properly on the lips. None of those things make this not-real, though, Isak thinks as he sits down at the table and allows himself to look at Even without shame, ignoring the smugly fond glances Eskild is bestowing on them.  Those things just mean Isak has to be careful, he has to make sure his body isn’t going to fuck him up, that his heart is really in it when he does go there. The fluttery feeling he gets when Even’s smile rests on him, and his expression changes to one meant just for Isak, is enough for now. 

They make their way to school side by side, their bodies not touching but a connection flowing between them nonetheless.  After breakfast, Even’s hands were on Isak the moment they got to the bedroom, and it was a hasty push of clothes and connection of bodies, whimpers stifled as they rushed to their release.  It was fast and frantic and nothing like Isak has experienced before. The aftermath left him relaxed and content, however, and he feels an unaccustomed ease as he sits on the tram next to Even, his body pliant and lacking tension.  Isak has to suck in a breath when their fingers brush accidentally, making his whole body light up again from that one small contact. He shoves his hands firmly in his pockets to avoid saying or doing something that will compromise their privacy.  He’s sure the eyes he turns on Even are giving him away at every moment anyway. He can feel how soft his gaze gets when Even’s the one he’s looking at. So it’s almost a relief to be moving away from him when they get to the school gates. A final press of the fingers and a small secretive smile and then Even’s gone, swallowed up into the building by the hundreds of other students also milling around.

That sets the tone for the day once more.  Isak’s again lost in thoughts of Even, sneaking texts when he can and finding it difficult to stay attuned to his work.  His mind drifts embarrassingly far too often and his friends are starting to get annoyed. Sana snaps at him again, her eyes fierce and her voice sharp.  Jonas and Magnus even start teasing Isak about his lack of focus. They all remind him of the scholarships and Isak groans every time. He knows. He had thought that knowing the science behind what’s happening to him might make it easier to control but if anything it’s harder.  His brain drifts and when he tries to order it back to some semblance of concentration it just smugly reminds him that this is normal and goes back to its daydreams. The only thing that stops the embarrassing slide is being with Even himself. But that comes with its own set of challenges, particularly around keeping his hands to himself.

They try again to spend time at Even’s house that afternoon.  It’s stilted and uncomfortable, and Isak can’t wait to get out of there.  He’s only here because Even wants to try; he so desperately wants his parents to approve of his relationship, and it’s painful to watch as they reject it instead.  

“So, Mamma,” Even starts.  “School’s going well. I’m in some nice classes …”

“Mmmmm,” she says, keeping her eyes firmly away from Even’s hand which is curled possessively around Isak’s.  “Well, it’s good that at least one thing is going right in your life.”

Even flushes, his face a beet red and his eyes taking on a glittery anger.  Isak stares at his mug as if it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.  There’s a tiny bubble swirling around in it and he watches it, counting every time it passes the handle.  The ceramic is too warm in his hands, and Isak wants to put it down to relieve the prickly feeling in his fingers.  But that bubble is the only thing that keeps Isak’s mouth shut and his aggressive protectiveness at bay. He’s so pissed off and all he wants to do is lash out at this woman who thinks she can just control Even because of a quirk of birth.

“Mamma,” Even’s voice is reproachful, but becomes cajoling as he continues.  “I wish you could see how much is going right for me.”

“I don’t understand, Even.  I probably never will. But this is not sensible, and I’m sure when you think about that you’ll realize the truth.”  She takes a breath, lets her eyes flicker towards Isak, who can see her rigid posture and desperate expression from the corner of his eye.  “When you do realize, I just hope it won’t be too late to fix all this.”

Even’s usual cheerful face slips and he growls, his teeth bared and his shoulders hunched as if poised to attack.  It’s a scary sight, and Isak swallows, squeezing Even’s fingers in his own and smiling at him when he glances Isak’s way.  After that, it’s awkward politeness. Isak can feel the tension simmering as Even stutters his way through small talk with his mother.  Isak and Even have already agreed that Even will stay the night with Isak, but his mother is clearly unimpressed when Even brings it up.  She stares with tight lips and disappointed eyes as Even leaves Isak behind so he can gather some clothes and items he needs. The silence that remains in the kitchen after Even leaves is almost oppressive.  Isak takes several long, ostentatious sips of his coffee just to have some way to avoid meeting her eyes.

“Have you seen Sonja lately?” Even’s mother asks as he comes back into the kitchen, and his eyes narrow in irritation.

“No, Mamma.  I told you; we’re done now.”

She sighs heavily.  “I always did like Sonja,” she says.  “She’s such a wonderful Beauty.”

It cuts into Isak again, how hard this all is.  Even’s face is falling again, and he’s casting looks at Isak that make it obvious he’s very concerned about how Isak is feeling.  In any other circumstance, Isak’s sure he  _ would  _ feel tiny and inconsequential.  That he’d start second guessing himself.  But today all he feels is rage. It’s not fair that she should make Even feel this way.  

“She’s not a good Beauty for me,” Even is saying now, and there’s a stubborn set to his chin and his eyes are starting to glitter dangerously again.  

“Do you have everything?” Isak cuts in, trying to deflect some of the tension.  It works. Even glances over at him and his face visibly softens. 

“Yeah, I do.  We should …” he sighs, looks at his mother.  “We should probably go.”

He kisses her on the cheek and makes his way to the door, shutting it forcefully as they leave and very deliberately ignoring everything that just happened as they make their way back to the kollektiv.  Isak knows better than to push, and lets Even set the tone with his gentle teasing and horrible jokes.

 

That evening when they make plans to go get a kebab, there’s only a brief moment of respite and peace in the idea before Isak remembers something.  He’s been hearing about it all week but it hasn’t really stuck. Not until now. Cold ice floods him and he comes close to panic. He has a test tomorrow and he left all his notes at school because he can’t keep his stupid brain on its tasks for long enough to be any use.  Feeling like the biggest asshole loser, Isak prepares to go get the kebab. He’s anxious, jumping from foot to foot, and with his hands restlessly playing with his hoodie strings. He’s quiet, not wanting to speak in case he lets all his fears tumble out in a way that worries Even.  It’s not Even’s fault that Isak is a loser who can’t keep his life in order. Or … it’s a little bit Even’s fault, but not in a way that Isak is willing to push onto him, only in the way he affects Isak. So he remains twitchy as they get ready, trying as hard as he can not to bother Even with this.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Even asks eventually.  He reaches out and rubs Isak’s arms. It’s so immediately soothing that Isak can feel himself relaxing a little and he sways towards Even.  He lets himself fall against his chest and hums his anxiety.

“I have a test tomorrow and I forgot my notes at school,” he admits finally.

“Oh.”  Even pulls back to looks into his eyes and Isak can tell there’s a growing concern there.  Which … fuck. He was supposed to  _ not _ burden Even with this.  “Can you borrow someone else’s?” Even asks.

Isak sighs and leans even more into Even’s warmth.  

“I wanted to get kebab with you though.”

Even laughs and the sound relaxes Isak even more.  He’s not angry, then, or worried. He’s just being his usual Even self, and he’s managing as always to say the right things.  “We can do both. Look, we’ll just go get some notes first and then get the kebab after. I don’t want my smart boyfriend worrying about studying all night, it’d ruin my appetite.”

Isak lets himself fully relax, and almost melts into his chest.  It’s so fucking nice to have someone on his side like this. He needs to keep reminding himself that he’s not in this alone anymore.  That he can trust and rely on someone else. He smiles. “You’re so nice, Even. Let me just text and then we can go.”

He reluctantly pulls himself away from Even and grabs his phone.

_ Sana, I need your help.  Pls pls.  _

_ You forgot your notes didn’t you _

Isak sends a puppy dog picture with big eyes and a contrite expression, then follows it with Puss in Boots.  He’s just gearing up to find more big eyed animals to persuade her when Sana sends back an eyeroll emoji, then adds  _ if you can get here in the next thirty minutes I can help.  Just this once. _

Isak grins at Even as he pockets the phone and takes the jacket Even holds out to him.

“She says it’s fine so long as I get there in the next half hour.”

“Let’s go then,” Even says and his tone is so impossibly fond that Isak almost forgets how anxious these notes have made him.  “Wouldn’t want to lose the window of opportunity.”

By the time they get to her apartment, Isak is feeling less stressed.  After all, recent lack of focus aside, he knows this stuff. Now that he has a plan, it feels a bit more like Isak has some control of what’s happening.  So he plans it out. Get to Sana’s, get the notes, eat kebab, come home. Study a bit. Or study a lot, probably. While trying to keep his hands off Even.   _ That’s _ the flaw in the plan, right there.  But it’s not like Isak’s going to ask him not to come home after.  Having Even there is like his own personal sleeping plan; it’s always easier with his warmth and his steady reassuring presence.  So the idea of no Even before tomorrow’s test is not one Isak is willing to entertain. But he also knows he’s going to have to really put in some serious effort to avoid being distracted from his study.  Again.

Sana’s amused exasperation with him lasts through the whole visit at her place.  She gets in no less than five jibes at his disorganization and lack of attention to detail.  She insinuates again that Isak’s going to fail if she isn’t there to hold his hand every step of the way.  For once, it doesn’t bother him and he’s able to joke back, ignoring the stab of fear that she could be right.  In fact, he’s even laughing as they make their way back to the front door.

“Whatever, Sana.  I’m the master of this.”

“The master of being useless you mean.”

Isak shrugs, grinning down at her as she stumbles to a halt at the sight of a guy who’s standing by her brother at the door.  It’s so obvious to Isak that she likes this guy. Her eyes are softer and her smile has gentled as she glances at him. Then his own eyes catch on Even and he can feel the smile blooming on his own face, so maybe he’s not exactly one to talk right now.  However, Isak can feel his eyes narrowing as he takes in Even’s body language, stiff and anxious. His eyes dart everywhere and he’s shuffling a little as if he wants to get away. He’s particularly avoiding the gaze of the guy Sana is so focused on, and Isak’s protective instincts rise.  He keeps an eye on Even even when he’s making his farewells to Sana, keeping his voice as light and his face as cheerful as he can. Anything to avoid drawing attention to Even’s discomfort.

“You’ll treat those right,” Sana says, eyeing her notes as if she’s sending her firstborn into war.  Isak rolls his eyes at her antics. He’s very careful with his notes, and she should know that.

“Thanks, Sanasol,” he says, taking in Even’s tension and pale face out of the corner of his eyes, tracing the way he’s getting even more stiff the longer they stay here.  “You’re a lifesaver.”

“You sure you don’t want to stay for some dinner?” Sana asks now but Isak shakes his head.  He moves slightly so he can touch Even’s hand, the only outward sign he can give that he’s got Even’s back.  He feels a slight press back and grins at Sana.

“No thanks, Sana.  We promised Eskild some kebab, and you know he’ll kill us if we’re not back with it within the next half hour.”

It’s a lie, but she seems to accept it, laughing and nodding along.  After that it’s an easy drift out of the conversation and a careful shepherding of Even away down the street.  It’s fairly obvious that he’s not going to make it far before he has to stop and take stock. Isak’s worried that his Beast side is going to come out; that looked like it was a tense, stressful moment for Even and Isak knows better than anyone how that sort of moment can affect a Beast’s equilibrium.

They get a few blocks away before Even’s physically shaking, and clearly putting one foot in front of the other through sheer force of will.  Isak makes him stop, pulling on his arm to make him still, then wraps his arms around him. It’s obviously exactly what Even needs because he sinks into it, curling his own arms around Isak as if he’s the only thing keeping him upright.  He croaks Isak’s name in a broken whisper as he falls heavily against him.

He’s curious, of course.  Isak’s never been one to just let things slide, but he also knows that whatever this is is something that’s affected Even deeply.  It feels almost intrusive to ask about it, but he does allow himself one small comment. Just to let Even know he recognizes that there are currents going on here which Isak has no hope of understanding.

“That seemed intense,” Isak says as he steps back a little.  Even still looks pale and his hands are shaking, but he’s smiling as he looks at Isak and that’s enough to ease his mind.  Whatever else is going on there, Isak figures Even will tell him eventually. After all, Isak still has his own issues he’s not comfortable sharing just yet.

“Yeah,” Even says, his voice weary and his body still unsettled and tense.  “I used to know them, but we haven’t talked in ages.”

Isak nods, understanding.  He knows all too well the way it feels to have friends seem distant and unresponsive.  He knows, too, how hard it is to make it through the day if people push. So he just leads the way to the kebab shop, and focuses back on his study.  The notes have eased his mind, but he still knows he has a lot of work to do as the evening turns into night.

 

 

By the time they get home, Even’s back to his usual self.  Or mostly. If there’s an edge to it, a desperation, then Isak doesn’t really blame Even at all.  The time with his mother today was uncomfortable, and then the meeting with his old friends piled on even more.  So the slightly overeager laugh, the slightly wider grin, the slightly more affectionate cuddles. They all make sense to Isak.  And it’s not like he’s averse to Even wanting to be with him, not when his own body yearns for Even’s with an intensity that scares him.

“Even!” he says now, with as much determination as he can muster.  “I need to study. I have that test …”

“Mmmm, I know,” Even says, crawling over to him and kissing him right where he knows it affects Isak the most, that juncture where his neck meets his collarbone, because he’s an asshole.   It always makes Isak shiver, and today is no exception. “I just can’t stay away from my hot boyfriend,” he adds, trailing his fingers down to Isak’s waist suggestively.

Isak laughs, going hot all over at the idea that Even finds him attractive.  The mere thought is ridiculous, because Isak has never applied that description to himself and he finds it overwhelming to start now.  So he deflects, going back to something he does know and does have a handle on. “Do you want me to fail this test, Even? After we went all the way to Sana’s for these notes?”  He’s trying to sound severe and authoritative, but it comes out soft and fond and ends in a whimper when Even kisses him again, this time on his jaw line.

“I guess not,” Even sighs as he sits back and picks up a book to read.  “I’m only in this for the status of having a super smart boyfriend, after all.”

Isak rolls his eyes, sniggering as Even puts on a very studied expression of deep interest in the book, but he can feel Even’s eyes still on him as he bends back over the notes.  They sit like that for another half an hour, Even watching Isak but looking back at his book whenever Isak glances up to catch him. Eventually, Isak huffs and sits back, pushing the notes away from him.

“Fuck this,” he says.  “If I don’t know it now I’m never going to know it.”

Even immediately throws the book on the floor and wriggles over to Isak.  “Does this mean I can play with you now?” he asks eagerly, and Isak laughs.

“Is that all you ever think about?” he gets out as Even pulls him into his lap and lets him feel the hard line of his dick through his pants.

“Mmmmm,” Even pretends to think before kissing Isak again on his neck, drawing a shuddering breath out of him.  “I think so, yeah. It’s just …” he kisses Isak on the lips this time, a long, tender drag of his lips over Isak’s as his hands pull him closer, firm on his ass.  “It’s just you’re so fucking hot and I can’t help it.”

Isak takes Even’s face in his hands and looks him in the eye.  What he sees there is enough to make him gasp. It’s so filled with wonder and awe alongside the lust that Isak feels almost like it’s too much.  Like he doesn’t deserve that much genuine care. So he bends down a little, enough to brush their lips together. It quickly turns heated, and Isak grinds down, trying to chase some friction.  It makes Even moan in his turn and Isak laughs against his lips.

“I want …” he says, carefully.  “I want to … um …”

Isak finds himself blushing.  He knows he shouldn’t feel like this.  It’s  _ Even. _  Isak’s had his dick in his mouth, so it shouldn’t be this hard to ask to do it again.  But it is. He steels himself, kisses Even again, and says in a rushed breath, “I want to suck you again.”

Even’s eyes widen a little but then his grin is back and he’s pressing his lips to Isak’s again in eager excitement.  “Fuck yes,” he breathes, and Isak can’t help laughing with him.

“That was fast,” he says.

“Isak, you’re offering to suck my dick.  I’m not going to waste time here.”

Suiting actions to words, he starts to get rid of his clothes, making such a pantomime of it and tripping over his own legs so much, falling comically all over the bed, that Isak’s nerves all settle.  He’s so ridiculous, this boy, but he’s so thoughtful with it. It’s obvious he’s acting this way to make Isak feel more comfortable, and Isak loves it, blesses him for it. Isak strips off his own shirt and is rewarded with a pause in Even’s movements.  His eyes roam over Isak’s body and he licks his lips before letting his gaze return to Isak’s face. He looks so into it, so into  _ Isak, _ that Isak flushes, hot all over, and he can’t help himself.  He slides back onto Even’s lap and kisses him deeply. Their chests brush together and Isak feels it in every inch of his skin.  

He pushes Even backwards, so he’s lying on the bed and sits up a little so he can see him.  He’s grinning, his eyes lit up in that smile Isak has always loved. Even had managed to get rid of all his clothes apart from his underwear, so all Isak can focus on is his dick straining against the fabric.  Holding Even’s gaze, Isak reaches out and touches it, feeling it through the light material, enjoying the way it moves under the silky fabric. Even’s eyes are wide, almost unfocused, and his mouth is suddenly dropping open.

“Isaaaak …” he gets out and Isak smirks.  He likes this feeling. He likes knowing he can make Even feel this way.  It reinforces that knowledge that there are two of them in this together. That Even is just as affected by all this as Isak is.  It gives him the impetus to pull down the boxers and take Even’s dick in his hand.

Isak doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to this, to the strangled groan Even gives as Isak touches him, to the way it feels smooth and hot in his hand.  The way he can trace the veins in it and make Even squirm as he explores each one. Suddenly impatient, he drags the boxers off fully and throws them quickly to one side before settling down between Even’s legs.  Isak looks up the expanse of Even’s body to see Even’s head thrown back and his hands clutching at the sheets. Smiling, he takes one of them in one of his, then wraps the other firmly around the base of Even’s dick and licks.  Even’s hand clenches tightly in his and Isak blinks a little as he looks up again. Even’s eyes are fixed on his and he looks like he’s actually getting off on seeing Isak do this. The thrill that runs through Isak at that thought is intoxicating, so he decides he might as well play with that a bit.

Holding Even’s eyes again, Isak takes the tip in his mouth and sucks, hollowing out his cheeks and allowing it to pop off as the suction follows through.  Even groans, his lips bitten red and his eyes hungry as he watches. So Isak takes him in again, deeper this time, and adds his tongue. It’s sloppy and uncoordinated; bobs of the head, and swirls of the tongue in no discernible rhythm.  Isak has no real idea what he’s doing; he’s basing this on badly filmed porn, what Even appeared to enjoy last time, and memories of the way Even moved  _ his _ tongue when he did this to Isak.  But it seems to be working anyway. Even’s hand is tensing in Isak’s over and over again and his hips are starting to push up into Isak’s mouth in a way that’s just short of too much.  His eyes are fixed on Isak’s and Isak can feel his own dick pulsing in his jeans as he takes in the naked lust on that face.

It’s not long before Even’s hand grasps Isak’s tight and he pulls, hard.  “Isak … Isak … you need to …”

Obligingly, Isak pulls off, lets Even slip out of his mouth slowly as he watches Even’s face.  He’s biting his lip, and his eyes are fixed on Isak’s mouth. It sends a hot flush through Isak as his own dick twitches eagerly.  Even groans as Isak takes him in his hand and strokes just a few more times before his hand is covered in a sticky wet sensation and Even’s breathing is ragged and he’s shuddering through the aftereffects.

Even’s body relaxes into some sort of blissed out slump on the bed, so Isak chuckles as he reaches for the toilet paper and cleans himself up.  He snuggles into Even’s side, almost ready to sleep now, but Even turns his head and kisses him gently.

“Thank you, baby.  You’re amazing.”

“Oh.”  Isak blushes and tries to deflect the compliment.  He’s still not used to being around someone who is so free with his words, someone who says things like this and  _ means _ them.  It’s awkward, makes Isak squirm a little to be the focus of so much attention, something he’s never got not even from his family and best friends.  “I don’t know about amazing, but I wanted to … to practice …”

Then Even’s got Isak’s hands in his own, they’re clasped together above his head and Even is bending over him and staring down in what looks like consternation.

“You  _ are _ amazing, and I’m going to tell you every day until you believe it.”

He kisses Isak then, then lets one hand slide down Isak’s chest, leaving pebbled goosebumps in its wake, as the other hand moves down to caress Isak’s face. Isak is suddenly hyper aware of how fucking hard he is in his pants.  He wriggles. His breath hitches and Even plays with his waistband, a question in his eyes. Isak nods, swallowing, and then Even has him in his hand, Isak’s jeans barely low enough to give him access. His hand twists every time he gets near the head and Isak is soon writhing,  Even’s kisses are heady and exhilarating and, coupled with his hand’s movements, make Isak tense suddenly, his body on fire and every single point of focus in his balls. Then he lets it go, his body shaken by a burst of energy and his head roaring with the intensity of the experience.

Even kisses him through it, his hands making circles on Isak’s body and he whimpers as his sensitive skin reacts to the way those hands are moving.  It takes time for him to come down this time, his body still shuddering occasionally as Even drops kisses all over his shoulder and neck. Isak sighs, turns his head so he can take in Even’s face again and he can’t help but smile.  He lets one hand brush over Even’s lips and chin and grins as he tilts his head into the motion.

Isak lets out a contented sigh and tucks himself into Even’s side.  “I needed that, I think.”

“Mmmm.  It can be good,” Even agrees.

“Can be?” Isak asks, teasing him.  “That doesn’t sound all that great.”

“Yeah,” Even says, sounding serious this time.  His eyes are unfocused and he’s staring at the ceiling as if drowning in a memory he’d rather forget.  “It wasn’t always. You know, with …” He sighs. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I loved her, a lot. We were together for a long time.  But … sometimes, what she wanted and what I wanted weren’t exactly … matched well.”

“Oh,” Isak says.  It bewilders him, this idea that sex might not be good.  “That seems so weird.”

Even laughs, his body shaking Isak’s and his voice joyous now as he turns so he can look into Isak’s eyes.  “I could take that as a compliment,” he says, pulling Isak closer and kissing his forehead.

Isak shrugs.  “You could. You’d probably be right.”

“There was a time when it felt like I would never be free,” Even says.  “Like it would always be a duty.” He lets his lips caress Isak’s hair and Isak smiles at the feeling.  “It’s so much nicer with you.”

Isak closes his eyes at the gift Even just gave him.  He’s occasionally taken over with insecurity because Even’s done this before, had someone before and Isak is so new to it all.  He’s always worried that he might not measure up. But here’s Even, telling him that it’s not true and that in some ways he likes this better.

“I used to think I was in love with my best friend,” Isak says, trying to give Even something in response.  “And you know, he’s straight so it … it wasn’t always nice.” He slides so he can reach Even’s mouth for a kiss.  “This is so much better, too.”

Even smiles against his mouth and brings him in for another kiss.  His smile is extra bright this time. Feeling happier than he has in a long time, and despite the worries and issues of the last few days, Isak drifts to sleep with Even’s fingers running gentle patterns on his back.  

 

The test is terrible.  Isak can’t remember half of what he thought he knew and the rest of it is stuff he’s sure they’ve never learned before.  He stares at the paper, tapping his pen irritably, and groans internally as he glances around at the studious faces of the people at nearby tables.  The teacher catches his eye and frowns, so Isak refocuses on his own paper and chews his lip as he tries to get something down. He writes as much as he can, bullshits whatever he isn’t sure of and hopes he’s learned enough over the last year or two to make it sound like he knows what he’s talking about.  When it’s over, he hands Sana’s notes to her.

“So, how’d it go?” she asks, with a smirk on her face as if she already knows.  She probably does; she was sitting near enough that she probably heard his mutters of despair.

“It was okay,” he says.  “Though, I doubt that was a six,” he admits with a grimace.  “I just have to study harder from now on.”

She raises one eyebrow at him and smiles, letting her dimples play in the way he knows always means she’s highly amused by someone else.

“You should maybe have learned that lesson  _ before _ the test, Isak.”

He rolls his eyes and leaves, determined to stop being so distracted.  It’s the weekend now, so perhaps he should stay at home studying by himself, rather than spending every waking minute with Even.  That thought sends waves of denial through Isak, but he pushes them away. If he wants to do well this year, he’s going to have to learn some balance.   As if to put a very unpleasant cherry on the top of the day he’s experiencing, Isak’s phone chimes. He glances at it. It’s his mother, again. More of her religious texts.  This time, Isak can tell it’s tied to their conversation at dinner. 

_ For this you know with certainty, that no immoral or impure person or covetous man, who is an idolater, has an inheritance in the kingdom of Christ and God. _

He sighs.  Of course.  _ Immoral.  Impure. Covetous,  _ even.  Idolator, too, if his feelings of idolatry for Even count.   All things she’s likely to think Isak is if she ever finds out about him.  Definitely a warning about her fears for his future. His heart squeezes again.  How long is he going to have to suffer through this? How long, while his mother sends him carefully coded messages about how he’s going straight to Hell?  It’s not like it’s going to stop him, but it’s distressing. Isak wishes he could have a better relationship with her. But each comment, each text: they all push them further apart.

Another notification pops up on his phone, and Isak smiles when he sees it’s from Even.

_ Hey baby.  How was the test? _

The grin fades a little.  Isak loves that Even cares and remembers, but being reminded that he just fucked up the test is hard.  He closes his eyes in pained memory then sends a quick message back saying it wasn’t great. Even’s sadface emoji and instant terrible meme does put a smile back on Isak’s face, however briefly.  

_ I think I need to study this weekend :( _ he sends to Even now.  He wishes it wasn’t like this, but he has to  _ try _ to be at least a little responsible.  That means he’s probably not going to be able to see Even as much as he’d like.

“Hey, Isak,” Jonas’ voice says behind his shoulder and he starts.  He’s been so caught up in his thoughts about Even as they text that he hasn’t paid any attention to his surroundings.  His heart is thumping, and he feels like the breath has been sucked out of him as he turns to look at his friend.

“Asshole,” he says, keeping the heat out of his voice and trying for as cheerful a demeanor as he can.  “What’s up?”

Jonas casts him a wary glance, which sets Isak’s heart racing again in case he isn’t maintaining his facade effectively.  But then Jonas bumps Isak’s shoulder with his own and laughs.

“Party tonight.  Wanna come?”

Isak pauses.  He really would love to go.  It’s been too long since they sat together and had a few beers and some weed.  It’s been too long since Isak felt like he might belong with this group of guys.  But he literally just told Even he has to study this weekend. Going to a party instead seems like it would be a really shitty thing to do.

“Even can come, if you want,” Jonas says now, his Wise Man instincts almost correct in his interpretation of Isak’s hesitation.  “If you want to keep it on the down low, he could just be there, you know?”

“Mmmm,” Isak says.  “I just told him I have to study this weekend.  That test kicked my ass today and I can’t keep on like that.”

“Nah,” Jonas says.  “You can let your hair down for a day.”  

Isak refrains from reminding him that he’s been letting his hair down, among other things, a fair bit lately, and that more hair raising is probably not advisable.  Instead, he just shrugs. “Maybe,” he says. “Let me think about it?”

The look Jonas gives him is one of concern.  Isak knows this isn’t like him. He’s usually the first to jump at the idea of a party; that was part of the problem last year.  That’s partly why his teachers all think he’s a lazy layabout. And even now he feels the pull; he wants this, wants to go out, to feel the buzz of beer in his veins, to feel like he’s part of a bigger whole even in this small way.  But the responsible part of him is whispering to him and he knows he shouldn’t. That doesn’t stop him from thinking about it, though.

_ Been invited to a party tonight _ he texts Even.  _  You wanna go? _

Even’s response is quick and disappointing.   _ I have stuff I have to do here, _ he says.   _ Family shit.   _ His heart dropping, Isak figures that’s it.  He should take this as a sign and stay home to study the way he knows he should.  He’s about to say this to Jonas, when his phone pings again.  _ But you go have fun. _  Somehow, Even giving him the green light makes it feel okay.  It’s been so long since he just let loose with his friends and Isak feels the desire itching through him.  So he turns back to Jonas with a grin.

“Even can’t come, but I’m in,” he says.  “Pregame?”

The wide grin Jonas gives him as he holds his hand up for a high five is enough to make Isak believe this was the right decision.

“Yeah!” Jonas crows.  “This is awesome! Can we do it at your place, though?  My parents are home today, so …”

“Yeah, yeah of course,” Isak says quickly, pushing away the part of him that sneers  _ yeah they only wanted you because you have a place; they don’t really want to spend time with you. _  He knows that part is an asshole.  “But this means you get the beers.”

“That’s fucking cheeky,” Jonas says, but he’s grinning too and Isak feels light.  It  _ has _ been far too long since they’ve done this, and Isak is suddenly really looking forward to it.  

 

7pm sees him ushering an amused Eskild and an irritated Linn out the door despite Eskild’s protests that he’d have a great time with them and help them out, and Linn’s mournful suggestion that she’d have just stayed in her room anyway.  Eskild perks up at that and pulls her by the arm.

“Oh, my little butterfly, you must spread your wings.  Let the whole of Oslo revel in your vibe.”

“I don’t have a vibe, Eskild,” she says, but she’s smiling as she takes the jacket Isak is holding out and lets Eskild drag her out the door.  He mouths “have fun” at Isak as he pulls the door closed behind them and Isak laughs. For an evening he’s spending without Even, he’s remarkably excited about what’s coming.  He surveys the room, makes sure the beer he convinced Eskild to get him is chilling in the fridge and then sits down to wait for the boys.

They don’t take long, pouring into the room with a raucous joy that almost gives Isak a headache.  He loves these guys, and enjoys spending time with them, but they can be a little obnoxious at times and today is clearly one of those days.  It sets Isak’s teeth on edge a little to see them so casually effervescent while he feels like a loose end, added on to their tight dynamic. It reminds Isak forcefully of the first day of school when he felt so far outside this group that he never thought he’d be able to re-enter.  The last week has been better; there’s no sexuality-hiding he has to do and so Isak feels a lot more free. But even so, there’s something grating about their jokes and their bursts of laughter. The way they focus on girls and sex so much irritates him even more now that they _ know _ he couldn’t care less.  He drags on his usual grin and confident cockiness, ripping Magnus to shreds and sharing glances with the others when Magnus complains.  But it feels so fake, and Isak is so used to being able to be real with Even that this shiny side of him feels awkward and ill fitting.

He sits down on one of the couches eventually, watching them with as amused an expression as he can drag onto his face.  He interjects every now and then, but sits back and watches as Mahdi sets his chill vibe loose, and Magnus entertains with ever more implausible stories.  Before too long, Jonas notices he isn’t really taking part and so he drops down next to him and bumps him with his shoulder.

“Isak my man, my bro, my dude.  Are you ready to party tonight?”

He’s clearly already starting to feel the effects of the beer, his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are alight, and Isak has to laugh at his slightly over exaggerated greeting.

“It’s going to be good, yeah,” he agrees.

“Hey, Isak” Magnus says now suddenly, as his eyes light up.  “You won’t be getting with girls tonight! You’re into dick now!”

Blushing, unsure how to really react to that comment, Isak forces a laugh.  “I’m into Even,” he says. “Not … well …” Which isn’t entirely true, but it still feels weird and awkward to admit aloud to this group that actually he’d far rather be sucking dick than … well, than whatever it is these guys do with girls.

“Yeaaaahhhh,” Magnus crows, waving off the parts of Isak’s comment that are unimportant to him and focusing on his main prize.  “Isak’s off the table. Maybe I can score tonight.”

“To score, you need game, Magnus.  And you still don’t have any,” Isak says.  It works to deflect the attention away from him and his sexual preferences, with the other boys all joining in the light hearted mocking.  Isak find the time passes relatively quickly from then on. By the time they leave for the party, he’s slightly buzzed and his steps have that dreamy quality that comes just when he’s pleasantly tipsy but not yet drunk enough to forget everything or to throw up later.  It’s the perfect state to be heading to the party in.

As usual, they barely greet the hosts or the other guests before they find themselves in the bathroom with the weed Mahdi has managed to source for them.  Isak sighs in bliss as he leans his head back against the tiles of the wall. They’re cool, the chill seeping through his hair and steadying his mind a little as he takes a drag.  The other boys are still talking about girls and Isak smiles, this time more genuinely, as he listens.

“Fuck, man,” he says.  “Girls seem like a lot of trouble.”

He can hear the smug undertone to his voice but can’t bring himself to care, not even when all three guys gasp in outrage and turn on him.

“Every relationship involves trouble, Isak,” Jonas says reproachfully.  “You should know that.”

“Nah,” he says, pretending he doesn’t know that Jonas is still talking about the way Even kept things from him at the start.  “Even’s great.” He smiles, eyes losing focus as he calls up a picture of Even’s face and the crinkled smile he’d be wearing if he was here right now.  “All that stuff … that was before we were official. So it’s not … it doesn’t count. Right now,” he says, as he looks at the others and feels the goofy smile on his face.  “Right now, everything’s fucking amazing.”

“God, he sounds just like Magnus does when he thinks he’s in love,” Mahdi says, turning his intense gaze onto Isak.

“Yeah, gross,” Magnus adds.  “You remember how boring Jonas was when he was with Eva?  That’s Isak right now.” He looks at Isak and smirks. “You’re a total loser, bro.”

Jonas sighs and Isak looks at him carefully.  Even through his buzzed out brain, Isak can tell that Jonas is unhappy.  “What’s up?” he asks, pushing Jonas and passing him the joint.

Jonas takes a deep drag and stares away from them for a few moments.  “It’s Eva,” he admits finally. “She’s with someone else now.”

“Shit man, that sucks,” Mahdi says.  “I thought you two would, you know, work it out or something.”

Isak cringes.  He hates the memories of how he acted when Jonas was with Eva.  Hates the reminder of the ways in which he demanded Jonas’ time so that he and Eva spent less and less time together and grew further apart.  There’s a part of Isak that wonders if he hadn’t been so pushy, whether they might still be together. A part that wonders whether his stupid, fruitless crush had anything to do with the way things ended between his two then-best friends.  But, he reminds himself, they weren’t in archetype and they seemed to struggle with that. 

“Do you know who?” he asks now, hesitantly.  He’s not sure exactly how to broach this with Jonas.  He’s always seemed very chill with the fact that he and Eva are no longer together, but there was a quality in his voice when he talked about her new partner that suggests deeper emotions are at play.

“A fucking princess,” Jonas says, avoiding all their eyes.  “She’s still out of fucking archetype.” He chances a look at Isak and asks, “if she was going to stay out of archetype, why not me?”  

Isak shrugs, uncomfortably aware that  _ he _ is out of archetype and that Jonas knows it but the others don’t.  “Maybe she just prefers girls,” he says. “It happens.”

Jonas’ expression as he looks at Isak is so lost that Isak has to look away.  “I just wish I knew why we didn’t work,” Jonas says. “It felt like it  _ should _ have worked.”

All of the pleasantly drunk buzz and the soft easiness from the weed dissipates and leaves Isak feeling sick to the stomach.   _ It was me, _ he wants to say.   _ My stupid jealousy did it. _  But he can’t bring himself to say it.  Knowing what he has with Even now, he can’t imagine why he thought his feelings for Jonas were real.  But he did think that, and he did try to monopolize his time, and wherever he could, he drove a wedge between the two of them because he couldn’t stand how happy they were.  It sickens him now to think how he used to act, how he used to feel. But he never told Jonas, even though he suspects now that Jonas knew how he felt. But he’s sure Jonas doesn’t know the extent of it.  

He leans back against the wall and lets the conversation swirl on around him.  The boys offer to be Jonas’ wingman if he wants to score and the banter as they try to convince him is good natured and amusing.  But Isak can’t quite bring himself to feel like he’s part of it. He doesn’t deserve it. The rest of the party passes in a sour haze and Isak is grateful when Magnus throws up and he has an excuse to leave to take care of him.   
  


 

Isak slides into his seat for the last class of the day on Monday to find Magnus looking at him with interest.  More interest than usual, even. Squinting at him, uneasy, Isak drops his books on the desk and shrugs his shoulders to deflect the attention, pretending to be uncomfortable after slouching over his papers for too long.  It does nothing to dispel the tension that’s sitting there, though, and Magnus doesn’t take the hint. He’s still staring in fascination when the teacher walks to the front of the room.

“What?” Isak hisses, as he flips open the book on top of the pile in a show of studiousness.

Magnus startles, shakes himself and smiles.  “I just … I didn’t realize you’re out of archetype.”

Panicked heat floods through Isak as he thinks about what this could mean.  What do the boys know about Even? How did they find out his type? How many other people know?  “What … what do you mean?” he asks hesitantly, unwilling to give anything away, just in case.

To his relief, Magnus grins.  “Even just said he’s not an Outcast,” he says.  “Only, I never pictured you with someone who wasn’t.”  He grins a little, runs his hands through his hair and opens his own book.  “It’s cool, though. Even’s a cool guy.”

Isak narrows his eyes.  “How could you possibly know that?  You barely met him?”

“Oh, we saw him earlier, during first break.  He’s really into you, though. Jonas was all ‘hey we should talk more’ and Even was all ‘only if Isak’s there’ -- like what the fuck, dude?  How’d you get someone like him so whipped?”

Isak laughs, as quietly as he can, and shrugs.  “Natural charm and good looks, I guess,” he says.

Magnus opens his mouth to protest, but the teacher calls his name and he has to snap his attention back to the lesson.  Isak is left pondering what Jonas and the boys could possibly have been talking about and why Jonas seemed so keen to talk to Even without Isak there.  Isak knows his friend well enough to read between the lines and see that there’s something Jonas wants to tell Even that he doesn’t want Isak to know about.  It sets his skin buzzing with nervous tension, and makes concentrating on the lesson that much harder. Like Eskild before him, Isak knows Jonas has his best interests at heart; he knows his friend only wants to help.  And yet, there’s that feeling of being pushed to the outside again. The feeling that Isak isn’t part of things, marginalized. An outcast, in every sense of the word. As much as he knows it’s not fair, he can’t shake the feeling.

When they’re packing up after class, Magnus claps Isak on the back and says, “seriously, though.  Even’s cool. Can we maybe hang with you guys after school?”

He looks so eager that Isak has to laugh.  “Dude, you’re acting like  _ you’re _ in love with him.  Just chill a bit, maybe.”

Magnus gasps and shakes his head.  “No. No, it’s not just me. Look.”

He holds out his phone with the group chat open and indeed, in the time since Isak last had the phone open to send a meme to Even, the others have blown up the chat.  Most of their comments are just as effusive in their praise of Even as Magnus was. Isak quickly turns his own phone on and gets all the notifications himself. He laughs.

_ You guys are so thirsty.  Chill,  _ he types. _  We can meet at mine. _

Then he thinks better of it, and adds.   _ Maybe.  I’ll just check if Even has other plans. _

Ignoring Magnus’ delighted, “oooh, ‘other plans’?  Like … sexy plans?” Isak sends a quick text to Even.

_ The boys say they saw you today.  They want to hang at my place after school.  Is that ok with you? _

Even sends a sadface emoji back, and Isak snorts just before the real response comes in.   _ Of course, so long as they don’t mind me being there.  I miss you _

Isak rolls his eyes in fond exasperation.  Magnus looks over his shoulder to see what he’s saying and smirks at him.  Shoving him playfully with his shoulder, Isak sends back,  _ asshole.  It’s you they want to see. _

_ Well I am pretty amazing _

This time Isak laughs aloud, charmed as always by Even’s confidence and self assurance.

_ Meet out the front in ten? First one there wins whatever he wants _

He’s trying to be suggestive, but thinks maybe it comes out a bit over eager when Even doesn’t respond.  So Isak delays a little, not wanting to look  _ too _ eager in case Even thinks he’s too invested.  As always when he hasn’t seen Even for a while, Isak feels insecure and worries that he’s reading too much into what they have.  That he should, in fact, follow his own advice to the boys and just chill a bit. Jonas and Mahdi arrive and Isak insists on going past the lockers before they head outside, just to take up some more time and to look like he’s completely 100% chill.  

That means that Even’s waiting when they get outside, shuffling on his feet and looking around anxiously.  As usual, Isak kicks himself. There’s proof right there, if he needed it, that Even is just as invested as Isak is.  Even looks up, and the way his face lightens when he catches Isak’s eyes is all the confirmation he needs. Isak’s feet speed up almost without him noticing it, and he finds himself standing as close to Even as he can without making it all obvious.  There are some good natured hollers from the boys behind Isak, but he doesn’t care. All that matters is that Even is right there in front of him, beautiful and real. Isak allows his fingertips to brush against Even’s, and pours as much meaning as he can into the look he gives him to accompany the “halla” he greets him with.

The tram ride back to Isak’s place is filled with a lot of banter between all the boys, good natured and playful.  Isak has managed to hook his finger around Even’s, invisible to most other people, but enough so that Isak knows he has contact and can show Even how he’s feeling.  He lets the finger move, running soft patterns on Even’s hand, and Isak smiles to himself when he hears Even’s sucked in breath and feels the way his finger tenses against Isak’s.  He turns to smile at Even, and the look in his eyes takes Isak’s breath away. That look tells Isak that Even is just as hopelessly besotted as he is. The rest of the ride passes quickly, though Isak has to force himself to pay attention to people who aren’t Even.  It’s just … it’s been too long since they really spent any time together and Isak’s body is humming with the nearness of Even’s and the inability to properly touch him.

When they get inside the kollektiv, they all settle down in the living room as Even gets a drink in the kitchen.  Isak glares at anyone who looks like they might try to sit down on the couch he has taken possession of. Jonas laughs and just raises his eyebrows as he and Mahdi take the other couch and Magnus slides reluctantly onto the floor.  Isak shrugs, acknowledging their amusement but not caring since there’s no way he’s being this close to Even again after so much time and not touching him.

“Even!” Isak calls out, suddenly desperate to have his boyfriend here, to sit tucked up against him.  He wants to show these boys how happy he is, and while he knows there’s something a little smug and possessive about that idea, Isak also just wants the familiarity and comfort of Even’s body next to his own.  “You’re needed for FIFA in here.”

When Even appears and slides onto the seat next to Isak, he smiles and allows his body to relax into Even’s.  He props his head onto Even’s shoulder, and lets his leg fall into its accustomed place overtop of one of Even’s.

“Hey, baby,” he whispers, lifting his head for long enough to press a short kiss onto Even’s lips before he places his head on Even’s shoulder again and turns back to his friends.  He flushes as he realizes they’re all staring. Magnus’ eyes are round and his mouth is dropped open in a delighted ‘o’ while Mahdi and Jonas are smiling as they nod what looks like approval.  For all that this was what Isak wanted when he did this, he feels a little uncomfortable under the scrutiny. Beside him, Even is stirring too, and Isak can feel the tension that has crept into his shoulders.  He’s about to look up and ask what’s wrong when Even speaks.

“You didn’t like me,” he says, looking at Jonas.

“Huh?  Who said?”  Jonas sounds confused, and Isak is baffled too.  Even when Jonas first saw Even, and warned Isak about his type, it was obvious that Jonas  _ liked _ him.

“You didn’t have to say,” Even says, and his voice is small and vulnerable.  As if this matters to him, somehow. “The first time I met you, you didn’t like me.”

Isak looks at Jonas quickly, wanting to see his reaction to that.  He’s startled to catch a blush on his cheeks, as if he’s admitting to something.  But he shakes his head firmly in denial. 

“Well, I could tell you weren’t … aren’t … like the rest of us,” Jonas says, looking earnestly at Even.  He leans forward as if to impress on them that this is important. “Not the usual types you meet everywhere.  It was a bit unsettling. I’m used to be being able to tell what type people are and I just couldn’t with you.”

“Wait wait wait.  You met him before us?”  Mahdi sounds a little put out, as if knowing Even longer is some sort of competition and he’s irritated that he just lost.  Isak rolls his eyes fondly.

_ “That’s _ the important thing you’re taking away from this, Mahdi?”  he says, amused. Mahdi just smiles and holds his hands up as if in surrender.

Magnus is looking at Even with a quizzical expression on his face.  “But if he’s not like the rest of us, then does that mean you haven’t met his type before?” he asks, turning to Jonas.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Jonas says.  “It was a mystery for a while.”

“But it’s not now?”

Beside him, Isak can feel the deep tension clawing its way into Even’s body.  His shoulder has become like iron under Isak’s cheek, and his thigh is rigid and shaking beside Isak’s.  Isak understands; he’s flooded with stress now that the boys are coming so close to figuring out what type Even is.  And for Isak it’s mostly academic; he’s not a Beast and he doesn’t have to live with the stigma surrounding being one.  For Even, this must be terrifying. His breath is coming in short gasps, and it feels to Isak like Even is close to panic.  In an attempt to prevent that, Isak puts a hand on Even’s thigh, as soothingly as he can, and turns his sharpest gaze on the others.

“I don’t think that’s important, though,” he says.  He makes the words as strong as he can, as forceful.  They are not going to take this any further, if Isak has anything to do with it.  “I know what type he is, and that’s all that matters.”

Jonas looks at them thoughtfully, and nods his understanding.  Isak can tell he’s putting things together, and figuring out that whatever type Even is, he’s probably not one of the coveted rare ones, meaning he’s one of the ones people tend to be thankful they aren’t.  Magnus’ face floods with disappointment and he looks like he wants to say something, so Isak glares at him until he subsides. Mahdi looks curious, but he’s wise enough not to say anything as they both nod too.  

Even seems to have himself under control now.  His body has stopped shaking and his shoulder is no longer a brick where Isak lies his head again.  He kisses Isak’s ear and whispers, “thank you, baby,” to him. “You’re good people.”

Isak feels ashamed and awkward as he blushes and buries his head in Even’s neck.  He shakes his head; he doesn’t deserve that. This is all his problem and his fault.  Even shouldn’t have to deal with assholes interrogating him, even if they’re Isak’s friends and they mean well.  If he’d thought a little more about all this, Isak could have prevented Even becoming upset in the first place.

Thankfully, Jonas loads up the FIFA and they all start playing.  Mahdi, knowing as usual how to dispel tension, challenges Isak to the first game and then it becomes a competition to see who, if anyone, can beat Mahdi.   It turns out, he’s still too good. Despite Magnus having practised for hours lately, and Jonas being completely focused every time he plays, no-one can quite get the best of Mahdi.   After Isak’s second turn, he plops himself down on Even’s knee, with his back half turned to Even’s chest and his fingers tangling with Even’s over his own chest.

“You’re a fucking cheat, Mahdi,” Magnus says finally, throwing the controller on the floor and glaring at it before turning his ire on Mahdi.  “Just because you’re a Charming doesn’t mean you should get to win everything.”

Mahdi just laughs and pushes him with his toes.  “I think you’ll find it’s not my type, it’s my superior abilities, Magnus.”

“Whatever,” Magnus grumbles.  “You have a cool type; it’s not fair you get to be good at everything too.”

Jonas pats him on the hand.  “Your type is pretty cool, Magnus.”

Isak snorts, enjoying this.  Being able to sit here wrapped up in his boyfriend while he teases his friends.  It feels nice. “No it isn’t,” he says, joining in the casual teasing. “He’s a Fool.  That’s like … objectively bad.”

“It is not!” Magnus squawks in protest.  “Fools are a very noble and honored type.  Just go read a book!”

Isak laughs, watching as Mahdi joins in the fond mockery and Jonas grins at them.  But then he realizes that Even has gone stiff behind him and he twists to see his face.  The look on it breaks his heart; he looks so lost and little, as if the comment about objectively bad types has hurt him deeply.  Isak kisses him quickly, then whispers, “I’m sorry.” He looks closer and sees the worry in Even’s eyes. “Magnus doesn’t mind,” he adds.

“Are you sure?” Even asks, and now it looks like he’s  _ genuinely _ worried.  Thinking about it, Isak gets it.  He’s spent so long thinking of Fools as the type that he can look down on, the type that is worse than being an Outcast, that he hasn’t really stopped to consider what that means.  How it’s allowed him to keep a pecking order of types and meant he can feel a little less like he’s the worst. But now, faced with Even and how he must feel as a Beast, Isak feels small and ashamed.  Even is thinking of Magnus and how  _ he _ must be feeling.  Isak casts a quick glance at him and is relieved to see that he’s grinning and laughing as he argues with the others about his type.  

“Yeah I think so,” Isak says, nodding in Magnus’ direction.  “It’s always like this.”

He chances a look at Even again and what he sees shatters his heart a little more.  Even is pale and withdrawn, his eyes are fixed on Magnus as if he’s trying to make sure he’s okay, and his mouth is turned down into a small frown.  Isak presses his head back against Even and tries to reassure him with his presence. Whatever Even may think, Isak knows that being a Beast has no effect on how Isak feels for him, that whatever jokes they may make about types and things like that, Isak will still always think of Even as the best person he knows.  He feels another kiss on his hair and can only hope that Even is feeling better.

By the time evening rolls in, Isak is exhausted.  He loves these guys, enjoys spending time with them, but he’s not been sleeping well again and right now he just wants to crawl into bed and sleep for a year.  So, he’s grateful when Jonas says they’d better be leaving. Isak manages to keep his cheerful facade until he shuts the door behind them, laughing as they compliment Even again and teasing them for being so obviously enamored of him. The mask of cheer and cocky sarcasm has sat ill on Isak for the last few minutes, however, and when he returns to the living room he lets it all go, lets his unhappiness play on his face and he sits down next to Even again and burrows into his chest.

“Can you stay?” he asks, desperate now.  He knows he doesn’t deserve this, not after what he said and how it affected Even, but he needs him here, needs his presence.  “I need you.” He has to say it, has to let Even know why. Because while Isak doesn’t deserve this, he’s not sure what he’ll do if Even won’t stay.

“Of course,” Even says, soothingly, and Isak breathes a sigh of relief.  He allows himself to relax, curling further into Even and tightening his fingers in Even’s shirt.  Even’s fingers run through his hair, and Isak lets out a soft sigh that would be almost embarrassing if he wasn’t so tired and it didn’t feel so good.

“I need food and then bed, I think,” Isak says as he feels Even’s lips pressing against his head again.  He feels so soft and warm snuggled here, that he makes no move to do anything.

Eventually, after a minor disagreement on who will be making the food, Isak cooks something easy and they eat before making their way through to the bedroom, where Isak finally gets to collapse onto the bed with a heavy sigh.  He covers his eyes from the overhead light and tries not to look at Even, because looking at Even will just let all the stuff explode out of him and Even doesn’t deserve that. Despite the brief respite in the kitchen, Isak’s heart is heavy.  He feels all the weight of the past few days. His mother’s casual and unwitting rejection of him. The boys, and Jonas’ sadness about Eva and the associated guilt. The way Isak helped make Even’s day just a little worse today. The lack of sleep and everything that goes along with that.  He feels small and insignificant, a lump growing in his throat and his body traitorously close to tears. 

Even sees through it anyway.  “What’s the matter?” he asks, climbing onto the bed and sliding up next to Isak.  He lies on his side next to him, rubbing his hands over his arms, in a way that instantly soothes Isak despite the way he feels.

“I’m a little stressed,” Isak confesses, and it’s all he can admit to.  This is Even, and Isak doesn’t want to push him away with all his issues and insecurities.  He turns over to face Even and all he can see on his face is affectionate concern. It makes Isak’s heart twist a little.  He doesn’t want Even to worry, so perhaps he needs more than that one word. Isak clarifies. “I’m not sleeping so well, and there’s stuff … with my family.  It’s all a bit shit.”

Even’s eyes crease a little as his concern deepens.  “You want to talk about it?”

Isak smiles, the lump in his throat getting tighter.  He appreciates Even’s concern, even if he doesn’t want to be worrying him in this way.

“No, not really,” he sighs.  He thinks of everything again and instinct tells him to ignore it, to push it away and try not to think about it.  He lets his eyes catch on Even’s and smiles again, trying to show his appreciation. “I can’t do anything so talking just makes it worse.”

In response, Even pulls him in closer, wrapping his arms around Isak and making him feel warm and protected.

“Okay,” Even says against Isak’s hair.  “What do you want to do?”

“Just lie here, with you.  You help me sleep.”

Even laughs softly at that, and his arms tighten for a brief moment as Isak snuggles further into his chest.  He lets himself relax, tries to shut off his whirling mind and focus on Even. On his warmth and strength. On his comforting arms and the soft patterns his fingers make as they ramble across Isak’s back.  On the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he lies there. Soon, Isak feels himself sliding towards sleep, and blesses Even for being here and sticking with him, even when Isak says and does the wrong things.  It helps a little, to know that Isak can fuck up and Even will forgive him so easily and so thoroughly. It makes Isak think that maybe one day he’ll be able to tell Even some of the worst stuff and Even will maybe not hate him for it.

As if to reinforce that idea, when Isak wakes groggy and stupefied a few hours later, Even is grinning at him.  He’s sitting up with his back pressed against the wall, but he’s arranged them so that Isak is snuggled into his thigh as he sleeps. 

“I’ve been researching,” Even says, and there’s such fierce pride in his voice that Isak’s heart melts, even as his brain tries to come back online and he struggles to make sense of what’s going on.

“Hmmm?” he manages, trying to let Even knows he cares even as he battles to wake fully.  

“About Outcasts,” Even explains.  “I figured I should know more about you.”

Isak smiles, happiness flooding him at the words and the implication behind them.  “That’s so cute,” he says, trying to seem unaffected but probably failing miserably.  He’s a little more awake now, and he lets his smile widen. “But you could just ask me.”

Even shrugs.  “You were asleep and the internet was right there.”

His eyes are alight and his grin is blinding.  Isak rolls his eyes at him and smiles again. “So what did you learn?”

“So much stuff, Isak.” Even says, bouncing happily and almost dislodging Isak from his position.  Isak groans and sits up as Even continues. “So much. The most.”

With an irritated huff, Isak pushes Even’s legs down and straddles his hips.  He lets his arms drift to Even’s shoulders and grins at him. “You’re not going to tell me?”

“Okay, okay.  I found out that Outcasts take a long time to trust people, that you don’t like being labelled and that you can be rebels, like bad boys a little?”

Even’s voice is hoarse and breathless, his eyes taking on a glint that suggests he likes what he’s saying.  Isak smirks as he smiles down at his boyfriend.

“That turns you on, does it?”

Even’s hands wander up the sides of Isak’s thighs, and squeeze in a way that makes Isak’s breath catch as he tries to keep himself focused.  “A bit, yeah,” Even says. “I can see myself with a bad boy boyfriend.”

Isak shivers, but laughs in an attempt to retain at least some semblance of control.  “I’m just a trophy to you then?”

“Never,” Even says, his gaze forceful as he sits up a little to press kisses to Isak’s lips.  He settles back against the wall, then adds, “it’s nice, though. That you trust me. After all that stuff, that means a lot.”

Isak smiles, the lump back in his throat, but this time from happiness.  He can’t believe that after the shitty things Isak let himself blurt out, and how uncomfortable they made Even, that he can feel that way.  Even is far too good a person for Isak, and he’s sure one day Even will realize that. But for now, he’s here and he’s saying these amazing things to Isak and Isak is drowning in how that makes him feel.

“I do,” he whispers now, trying to give Even something as important back.  “I do trust you. Even when I wanted not to, I couldn’t help it.”

“I was the same,” Even says.  “I wanted to forget you, to force myself to be angry that you wouldn’t listen to me, but all I felt was sad, like I’d let you down.  I couldn’t stop thinking about you, though.”

Isak smiles, a full bodied thing that takes him by surprise.  No matter how often Even tells him, there’s that small niggling voice in his head that says that during the time when Even was still with Sonja and things were awkward between them, that Even never really thought of him.  That all this intimacy and hope came later. The idea that Even still thinks he let Isak down during that time … well, that settles something in Isak and he can’t help but feel cherished. That Even would admit to something like that makes Isak feel again like he’s somehow lucked onto something special and he needs to do whatever he can to keep it.  “You’re so fucking amazing, you know that?” he asks.

Even shakes his head.  “I’m really not,” he says.

“Are you saying shit about my boyfriend?” Isak asks, giggling as he tries to jolly Even out of this new moment of self-criticism, and he rejoices when Even laughs too.

“Just telling it like it is,” Even says as he smiles at Isak.

Isak sighs and shakes his head fondly.  “What am I going to do with you?” he asks now.  “You’re so down on yourself all the time.”

“Yeah,” Even says, moving his shoulders in a way that suggests discomfort with this conversation.  “I’m a Beast. There’s no reason to be anything but down on myself. I’m … basically, I’m a monster.”

Isak’s heart is thumping now, horrified that this is how Even sees himself.  Even, who is the kindest, most loving person Isak knows. Even, who knows exactly how to calm Isak down and make him feel at peace and at home.  Even, who lights up the world with his compassion.  _ Even _ thinks he’s a monster?

Isak lies down carefully on Even, placing himself so he’s almost entirely on top of him, and looks into Even’s eyes, trying to impress the seriousness of what he’s about to say on him.

“Do you know the shit side of being an Outcast, Even?”

“No, not really.”

“It’s that everyone thinks you’re a bit odd.  That you don’t fit in. They try to figure out why, what it is about you that’s so wrong or different.  They act like they’re okay with it, but I know if they knew what is actually wrong with me they’d run.”

He’s trying to make Even  _ see. _  That it’s not about being a Beast or a Fool or an Outcast.  That people are assholes, and your type shouldn’t define you any more than your hair color or your religious beliefs.  Instead, Isak sees an anger rising in Even and it startles him. But Even’s voice, when he speaks, is gentle. 

“There’s something wrong with you?”  

Isak smiles, but that lump is back as he looks down into Even’s face and sees the expression move from sadness for himself to sadness for Isak.  The change is subtle, but Isak can see the moment when Even’s worries fire up. So he tries again, tries to open up a little, to be vulnerable. Because, maybe if Isak is vulnerable enough, Even will understand.  He’s  _ not _ a monster, and Isak will fight anyone who insinuates that he is.  No monster could feel the compassion and empathy that Even is showing right here and right now.

“Yeah,” Isak says with a shrug.  “I like guys. My mother made it very clear as I was growing up that it wasn’t okay.”

He can’t quite bring himself to say that she’s even worse now.  That if she knew about him, and about Even, that she would cast Isak aside, but something of that sadness must show in his voice.

“Isak, baby.”  Even’s voice is quivering, and Isak can hear the confused agitation in it.  “That’s not something that’s wrong with you.”

Even’s hands are making small circles on his back and Isak smiles a little as he tries to impress this idea on Even.  “It is what makes me different, though. It’s what makes me an Outcast.”

He hears Even’s sharp intake of breath and feels his hands still on his back.

“Do you really believe that?” Even asks, and he sounds almost broken.  Like this conversation is hurting  _ him. _  Isak doesn’t understand why.  That’s just life, and Isak has been told for most of his life that being gay is shameful and wrong.  Outcasts are always on the outside for a reason, and he can’t shake the idea that  _ this _ is his reason.

“Yeah, of course,” he says.   

“But shouldn’t that mean I’d be an Outcast?  And Eskild?”

Isak shrugs again.  “I thought you were for a long time, remember.  It made sense to me. I’m broken in this way and that’s what I am, so if you liked me too -- and I thought you might -- then maybe you were too.  It felt nice. To have someone be like me.”

“I am like you, baby.  Just … it’s not wrong, okay?    _ We’re _ not wrong.”

Even’s voice is so earnest, and he’s so kind that Isak can’t help but smile again. He knows Even is trying to reassure him, and that’s so ironic since a few minutes ago, Isak was the one trying to make Even feel better.   “I needed to hear that, I think,” he says, “even if it’s hard to take in.”

Even kisses him, over and over again, the kisses feeling almost desperate against Isak’s skin.  He lets himself give in to them, lets Even give him this. He may not deserve this, but if it helps Even then Isak will accept it.  He ends up laughing, drawn in once again by Even’s charm and his ability to do exactly what Isak needs at any given moment. He’s still not happy, though, not entirely.  But, being with Even eases something complicated in Isak and lets him relax, at least a little. 

“You’d tell me if the stuff with your family was really bad, right?” Even asks eventually once they’re back in their accustomed position with Isak’s head pillowed on Even’s shoulder and his leg hooked over Even’s.

Isak looks up at him with anxiety squirming into his stomach.  He searches Even’s eyes and it becomes obvious where this is coming from.  There’s pained memory in Even’s eyes, and Isak shudders. Even’s family has been so cold and hard to spend time with, and Even is clearly worried that Isak is facing the same thing at his home.  Little does he know that Isak can’t even broach the subject to his mother. 

“Yeah, I promise,” he says, carefully not telling Even about his actual circumstances.  “But it’s not … not really bad. Just frustrating I guess. My mamma, she’s … “ he trails off, unwilling to get into everything.  It’s bad enough that Isak knows his mother would hate what they have here; Even doesn’t need to face that too. Even nods, seeming to accept that.  Then Isak remembers something. “You know you can talk to me too, right?” he says. “About whatever that stuff was with your friends.”

Even takes in a sharp breath before he nods again, looking almost fearful.  “I will, baby,” he says and his voice is clogged with an emotion Isak can’t quite identify, but one he’s willing to let Even sit with for now.  Whatever is going on there, it’s obviously something that Even feels fragile with the way Isak feels fragile with the information about his mother.  “I promise one day I will,” Even adds. “But I think we should sleep again now.”

Isak nods against his chest.  He does feel warm here, cosy and protected.  He doesn’t want to move, despite his clothes feeling restrictive and slightly uncomfortable after his previous nap.  So he lets Even draw him in closer and slides back into sleep. His earlier nap hadn’t been enough after the lack of sleep he’s had recently, so he finds himself once again slipping into dreams while Even holds him.  It’s a blessing, he thinks as sleep takes him, that Even is so willing to do this. Even if he had an entire lifetime, Isak doesn’t think he could make up for what Even has given him. But he’s sure going to try. Even isn’t a monster, and Isak is going to spend his life proving it to him, if that’s what it takes.


	6. Chapter 6

“Isak? Can you stay behind for a minute please?”

Isak snaps his head up from his books, which he’s been staring at in an unfocused manner for the last few minutes.   He looks at his teacher in consternation, not sure why he’s being singled out like this. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” the teacher says, her mouth twisting in a way which suggests she wants to smile but is trying to suppress it in favor of a stern expression.  “I don’t teach any other Isaks.”

Sighing, Isak nods.  “See you later, bro,” Magnus whispers, patting his shoulder as he moves round behind Isak and heads out of the room.  The space seems suddenly much less welcoming without his cheerful presence and Isak frowns as his gaze flickers over to where the teacher is standing, all hint of amusement gone from her expression now.

Soon, the room is totally empty around them, and Isak looks at the teacher in anxious confusion.  She’s turned to stack some books on a table, her body language stiff and unnatural. Isak squints at her, with his heart starting to thud uneasily.  For the life of him, he can’t figure out what she wants from him. He’s been much more focused in class lately, due to better sleeping patterns and Even’s presence.  Though, Isak thinks guiltily, maybe it’s the Even issue. The one where he can’t keep Even out of his mind enough to be fully present in any given lesson. 

The teacher has clearly been waiting for the last footsteps to fade away outside because as soon as there’s echoing silence she starts to speak.  

“What’s going on with you, Isak?”

She still has her back to him, but there’s an edge to her voice and Isak winces.  “Um? I’m not sure what you mean?” She turns around at his words, disbelief written clear all over her face.  Isak drags his most charming smile onto  _ his _ face, the one he uses when he knows he’s about to get into some sort of trouble and wants to minimize the damage.  The teacher frowns at him, clearly still unmoved by the display, and his heart sinks.

“Your work, Isak.  You started this year so well, and we had a lot of hopes for you.  There were scholarships …”

“Were?” Isak asks, as fear clutches his heart again.  “What do you mean ‘were’?”

She perches on the desk behind her and smiles, something thin and disappointed behind it.  “Isak. You’re usually very good at this subject, but your grades have slipped a lot the last few weeks.”

Isak flushes.  He knows that, knows that he stopped working as hard as he should as soon as he started spending time with Even.  “They’re not that bad,” he mumbles, trying to avoid meeting her eyes. And the thing is, he knows he’s right. He’s still getting 5s, and those are perfectly decent scores.  Just because he’s always got 6s in this subject doesn’t mean a 5 is  _ bad. _

“Look, I know things can get difficult, Isak.  But you need to pay more attention in class. I see you drifting a lot.  You won’t have any chance at those scholarships if you keep this up.”

Isak sighs, his shoulders slumping.  It’s not like he wants the stupid Outcast scholarships anyway, so why her words sting so much, he doesn’t know.  But they  _ do _ hurt and he feels them as stabs of ice into his chest.

“I’ll think about it,” he mutters, keeping his head down and scuttling out the door as soon as she sighs and waves her hand to let him know he can leave.  

It’s all so shit and Isak feels awful.  He’d promised himself that he was going to do better.  The Outcast scholarships never meant anything to him, but Isak had been desperate to prove himself, so eager to prove that he is capable of achieving the general ones.  And yet here he is, mere weeks later, being called to account by a teacher for his lack of focus. He grimaces as he enters his next class. The spectre of last year and how much he’d fucked up hovers again, and this time Isak lets himself give in to it.  Maybe that memory will be effective where every attempt at logicing himself out of his complacency has failed. He does manage to stay focused this lesson. A small victory, maybe, but one he’s going to take and try to emulate in the future.

  
  


At lunch, Isak’s waiting in the cafeteria for the boys to come along.  He’s seated in a corner, earplugs in and a scowl on his face. He has no interest at all in anyone intruding on his time.  Unless that someone is Even or one of his friends. His feet are planted on a nearby chair, because there’s no way he’s letting anyone other than Even sit next to him.  Staying focused in class is one thing, being near Even but not near enough is  _ quite _ another.

So when someone arrives, pushes his feet enough to move them to the edge of the chair and squeezes their body next to them, Isak is ready to greet that person with a smile.  It fades when he looks up and sees Emma’s cheerful and eager face beaming at him.

“Emma,” he says in a monotone as he quickly pulls his feet down to the floor and scoots his chair a few inches away from hers.

“Isak.  How are you?”

Her eyes are bright and her smile is blinding.  She’s leaning forward and her fingers are skimming near to his on the table in front of them.  He winces, moving his own away as casually as he can manage.

“I’m … uh.  I’m okay, Emma.  Study, you know?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Isak spots Jonas entering the room and he telegraphs with his eyebrows as hard as he can that he needs some intervention over here.  Jonas, the bastard, merely raises his brows in response and saunters over to the line at the counter.

“Oh, that must be hard,” Emma says, making Isak snap his attention back to her.  Her eyes are widening in sympathetic interest and Isak can feel a sick smile fading off his own face.  “First year isn’t so bad. Our teachers are pretty decent.”

“Mmmmmm,” Isak says, snapping the words out with an edge in his voice.   _ “I’m _ kind of trying to do well, though.”

She winces, a small vulnerable motion of her mouth, and frowns as she leans back into her chair.  “That’s a bit rude,” she says, and her voice is quivering.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Isak says, trying to keep his annoyance with her out of his tone.  Why is it so fucking hard to be nice to her? She drags out every asshole tendency in him just by existing, it seems.  “I’m having a shit day and my teachers are starting to get on my case. It’s just ... it sucks.”

“Oh,” she says, her smile back at his apology and her fingers dancing near to his again.  “We’re having another Outcast get together this weekend. You should come.”

Jonas arrives just as she says that, and he looks between them with a grin.  “I’m sure usually he’d love to, Emma. But I think you should know that Isak is a bit of an asshole these days.  With his studying and his becoming a hermit.”

“Fuck you, asshole,” Isak says as he glares up at his friend, though inside he’s blessing Jonas for trying to help.  “I’ll try to be there,” he says, turning to Emma again. “But I do have to study so I don’t really know.”

He shrugs.  He’s trying to convey regret and sadness, and in some ways he does still feel that tug.  These are people of his type and they want him to be part of their group. In theory that should feel really damn amazing, but in reality Isak just feels terrified and trapped when he thinks about joining their group properly.  There’s nothing appealing about those girls and the way they act when they’re together. The idea that Isak is expected to join them and like it just because of a quirk of nature … well, it’s not at all inviting.

Emma smiles, though, as if Isak has handed her the world.  She trails her hand on his shoulder as she gets up to leave, and Isak breathes out a sigh of relief once she disappears out the door.  He glances up at Jonas and catches a calculating look on his face.

“What?” he asks, so startled that he can’t help the words that rush out.  “Is there something wrong?”

Jonas shakes his head, but his eyes stay alight and shrewdly observant.  “No. I just … I don’t know. It seems like there’s not much of a bond there,” he says.

“With Emma, you mean?” Isak asks, wondering where this is going.  What if Jonas has figured out that Isak doesn’t have a bond with Emma and her friends?  What if Isak’s carefully crafted facade starts to slip even further? He’s still not sure that he wants the boys to know how much of an Outcast he is, that he can’t even make a proper bond with others of his type.  He snorts at himself, exasperatedly amused at his own inconsistent feelings about this.

“Mmmmm,” Jonas agrees.  “Is it slipping a bit? Can that happen?”

Isak shrugs, internally relieved that Jonas hasn’t caught on, but outwardly trying to keep up the show of being unconcerned.  “Not sure,” he says. “Maybe it fluctuates or something.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Jonas agrees.  “Can you add people to your bond group, though?  How does that work?”

Isak knows this is all good natured, knows Jonas just wants to understand Isak better.  But there’s still that small part of him that rebels against this. He’s always felt like he’s under the spotlight for these boys, and that their interest in Outcast bonds has more to do with why they keep him around than any actual desire for his company.  He knows, intellectually, that he’s being ridiculous. He knows the boys like him, but even so. There is a fascination with Outcast bonds that they all share and it does feel intrusive. Because of that, Isak feels a need to push back.

“I don’t know,” he says through gritted teeth.  “It’s not something I’ve done experiments on.”

“You haven’t researched it?”  There’s a degree of disbelief in Jonas’ voice now and it stings.  It feels like a judgement, and so Isak’s patience is worn a little further when he replies.

“No, Jonas, I haven’t,” he snaps.  “I don’t particularly care either. I don’t need a damn bond to be happy.”

Jonas glances at him and his eyes are widened in surprise.  He chuckles awkwardly. “Okay, bro, whatever. I just wondered.  Must suck to be bonded with people you don’t like that much, though.”

Isak sighs, his aggression dropping off as fast as it came.  He slumps in his seat. “I don’t dislike them. I just … I don’t really want to hang with them as much as they want to hang with me.  And Emma is so …” he waves his hand around, trying to indicate ‘persistently annoying and oblivious’ with one simple gesture.

“Yeah that part must be tough.  What with …” Jonas drops his voice and leans in a little.  “What with Even and all.”

Isak can feel the small smile that tugs at his lips just from hearing Even’s name and he grimaces.  “Yeah. But I can’t say anything, because … because we’re not ready for people to know.”

Jonas nods his sympathy and thankfully drops the subject, moving on to a discussion of the food available today.  The other boys join in happily with it when they arrive too. Even turns up soon after they start bickering over which drink on offer is better, and when he slides into the seat next to Isak with a crinkle-eyed smile and a soft brush of fingertips over Isak’s knee, Isak relaxes completely.  The small moments they manage to spend together, like this one, wash every unpleasant memory of the day away and allow Isak to go into the rest of his classes with a smile and a focus he doesn’t often achieve these days. His focus returns to Even by the end of the day, of course, but that’s only to be expected.  

 

The thing Isak has noticed about being with Even is that he’s not pushy at all.  They’re having sex a lot, almost as often as they see each other, and it’s getting to a point where Isak’s body reacts just to the sight of Even.  But he never takes it any further than they’ve already gone. It’s all blow jobs and hand jobs, and on one memorable occasion, mutual blow jobs at the same time.  But for the most part, every new thing they’ve tried has come from Isak. For which he is grateful; it’s still so new to him, this relationship thing, that Isak likes having this small bit of control.  But he wants to try something else, something more like the things he’s seen in the porn he’s watched guiltily on his phone. It’s just that the idea of having something inside him is both really fascinating and a little formidable.   What would it feel like? How would he cope? He wants to  _ know, _ but he’s realizing that Even isn’t going to offer; which means Isak is going to have to ask for what he wants.  If he can figure out what that is. 

So one day after school, while Even isn’t at the kollektiv, Isak starts searching.  He searches for blogs on gay sex, goes back to his bookmarked tabs and looks there as well.  He’s not entirely sure what he wants to find, though jumping straight into having a dick inside him seems like a big step and he wants something a little less confrontational.  Isak laughs at himself. It’s Even, and he’s fairly sure that regardless of what they decide to do, Even’s not going to hurt him at all. Even so, there’s a small part of Isak that shies away from the idea of an actual dick shoved inside him just yet.  The idea of it scares him a bit. It’s a little too … intrusive, maybe. Isak can’t find the words to articulate what he’s thinking, but he figures if he’s using words like ‘shove’ to describe it, he’s probably not ready to think about doing it. 

There’s another part of him, however, that lights up when he finds a blog that shows something else.  It has a hot header, which is what catches his eyes in the first place, but below that header is a series of gifs, and all of them involve guys with their fingers in other guys’ asses.  Isak looks at them, feels the breath sucked out of him as he does so. They’re all so … intense. Every single one of the guys having it done looks like they really enjoy it. Their heads are thrown back, their eyes glassy, their mouths hanging open.  Isak’s dick twitches as he looks at them.  _ This _ is what he wants to try, he thinks, but now it’s a case of broaching it with Even.

He carefully bookmarks the page, then switches tabs to try to take stock.  It’s a case of preparation now. He thinks back to the tube of lube he already has stashed in his drawer.  So that’s all sorted. But Isak knows enough to know that it’s probably not wise to jump straight into this with no hygiene preparation.  So he googles again. Blushing furiously, he reads up on whether soap and water is enough or if you should use an enema. Most sites recommend the enema, which sounds really complex to do and not very sexy.  So Isak shudders and closes the tab down. 

Isak sighs and drags his computer closer to him, deciding that he should probably do some study for school rather than for sex.  Unfortunately, the mere idea of the fingering has him fired up already and he’s not really concentrating very well. His eyes flick over to the tab with the blog on it and the gifs keep popping back into his mind, seared into his memory.  Isak huffs his irritation. He wants to try it, preferably sometime soon, so maybe he needs to look a bit further into preparation. Shaking off the intrusive thoughts, he tries, for a few more futile minutes, to focus on his studies, but too soon he’s flicked back to his searches.  This time when he looks, he finds something that looks simpler and the site that suggests it is reassuring enough to say that just washing thoroughly is probably enough anyway, if the whole thing doesn’t quite work. 

So Isak finds himself, hot all over, in the shower, experimenting with washing.  He’s not going to jump straight into this without practice, after all. It’s weird, though, knowing he’s washing not to clean himself, but to practice getting ready for something sexual.  That changes how he feels about it. He tries to be clinical, to assess how effective the washing is, but he can’t help reacting to what he’s doing. Every pass of his fingers reminds him of expecting someone’s fingers to be inside him,  _ Even’s _ fingers if he wants it too.  When he slips his own finger inside briefly to make sure he’s clean, Isak flushes all over.  Looking down, he can see the red staining his chest and feel the heat in his cheeks. He’s half hard just from thinking about it, so he takes a deep breath, rinses the last of the suds off his body and leans his forehead on the cold tiles for a few seconds, trying to get himself under control.  Even’s not here, and even if he was, Isak doesn’t think he has the courage to ask for this today. It’s enough to be thinking about it, preparing mentally for what might come later. By the time he’s calmed down enough, the shower is cooling and Isak reluctantly steps out.

When he returns to his room, Isak sees a text from Even saying he’s on his way to the tram after visiting with his mother.  There’s a sense of frustration and irritation underlying his words and it makes Isak’s heart clench again. Even tries so hard to gain his parents’ approval, but it always seems to go badly for him.  In some ways, Isak thinks Even would have an easier time if he was actually an Outcast. There are expectations, yes, but overall Outcasts are left to their own devices. That’s probably the biggest benefit to being on the margins: no-one really thinks you need to be a certain way.  But Even is a Beast, and with that comes certain expectations around behavior and attitude. Even doesn’t meet them, probably deliberately, Isak thinks, but it makes it hard for him in times like these. Unfortunately, there’s nothing Isak can do to smooth the way with Even’s parents.  All he can do for Even is be there as a safe space after any fallout. So he sends a cheerful text back and grins when Even replies with a winky face.

Then there’s the realization that Isak hasn’t studied enough today, and he has work he needs to complete for Biology tomorrow, which is almost certain to be disrupted when Even arrives; that’s just reality for them at the moment.  So Isak pulls his textbook out and starts poring over the pages. It’s dull today, not stuff that he’s ever been particularly interested in. But then something catches his eye, and Isak is sure it contradicts the research he’s been doing lately.  So he opens his computer again and flicks back through some tabs he was working with. Sure enough, the textbook’s explanation is not only overly simplistic, but also seems to be saying the complete opposite to the scientific site he’s found. He growls, irritated.  He needs to know which is right, but they both sound so authoritative. He rereads the textbook, glancing at the screen to make sure they aren’t saying the same stuff. It’s still not making sense and Isak sighs. 

There’s a soft knock on his door, and Isak looks up, startled.  Even is standing there, lounging against the doorframe and looking so goddam beautiful that Isak’s breath catches.  Even looks a little unsettled, but his face sports a soft smile, and his frame is all long legs and slender arms. His hair is looser today than usual and flops a little as he dips his head in greeting.  Isak breaks into a wide smile and leaps off the bed to jump into his embrace. 

“Hey, baby.  Did you miss me, then?”  Even says, and he’s laughing, the sound open and joyous in the small room and Isak can feel the tension slipping away as Even’s arms come around him.

“So fucking much.  Thank god you’re here to save me from this shit.”  Isak flaps his hand at the stuff still piled on his bed, disdain for it all as implicit in the gesture as he can make it.  “The textbook says something completely different to the online official webpage and I can’t figure out why.”

“I’d go with the textbook,” Even says, pulling back to look into Isak’s eyes.  “That’s what you’re tested on, right?”

Even’s right, of course, but that’s not the point.  Isak can’t bring himself to learn something and regurgitate it in a test if it isn’t correct.  What if he goes out into the world and tells other people that wrong information? He shakes his head as he explains all this to Even, then pulls back a little as Even laughs at him.  It stings, hearing that. Of everyone, Isak had thought Even would understand all this. 

“You think that’s funny?”

“Oh, no.  No, baby, no.”  Even’s face is contrite, as if he instantly regrets saying anything to upset Isak.  It helps a little. Maybe more when Even adds, “it’s so fucking hot.”

“Hot?” Isak asks, completely thrown by this comment.  In all the time he’s been interested in this sort of thing, he’s never considered it hot.  Nerdy, maybe. Studious definitely. But hot? That’s never been a consideration. “Me talking about science is hot?”

“You have no idea, do you?” And Even’s eyes are so very soft and so very fond, and he’s lit up, his arms waving as he explains how Isak affects him, and it’s a lot.  By the time he’s done, Isak is speechless. He can feel the red in his cheeks and his mouth is hanging open, no doubt in an extremely unsexy way. But it’s just so much to take in, that Even likes this about him.  That his passion and excitement for learning affects Even in a very physical way. A way that’s obvious as Isak’s eyes skim downwards on his body for a moment. It’s enough to draw Isak like a magnet; somehow seeing Even hard like that because of science of all things does something to Isak’s resolve.  He allows himself to touch Even, to trace the line of his dick through his pants, reveling in how rigid it is.

It’s suddenly not feeling quite so important for Isak to build up to what he wants, so he lets his voice drop and become as suggestive as he can make it.  “I’ve been researching some other stuff, too,” he says.

“Oh?” Even says, and there’s a hitch in his voice that sets Isak’s blood on fire.

“Mmmm,” Isak says.  “There’s some stuff I want to try.”  He has a sudden realization that just because he wants this, that doesn’t mean Even does, even if he’s so hard it looks like it might even be painful.  “If ... if you want to.”

“I have no idea what you want to try, but whatever it is ... yes.  Always yes,” Even says, the words making Isak feel a little less uncomfortable; the heat in Even’s voice gives away just how keen he actually is.

Isak gives a shaky laugh.  “Dork. Be serious.”

“I am serious,” Even says, drawing him in closer.  “Whatever sex thing you’re interested in, I can guarantee I want to try it.”

Isak looks at Even’s dick again, unmistakably hard in his pants, and nods.  “I’m going to test that one day. I’m sure if I look hard enough I’ll find something you find a turn off.”

“I’m pretty sure you won’t.”

“Is that a challenge?” Isak asks, wirth enough confidence now to walk backwards to the bed in the knowledge that Even will follow.  “I’m the master of challenges,” Isak says, falling backwards onto the bed and pulling Even down with him.

Their lips meet, and Isak can hear Even sighing as the kiss deepens.  He’s eager, his lips landing wherever they happen to fall, and often missing Isak’s mouth altogether.  Their teeth click together unpleasantly a couple of times, as Isak struggles with his shirt, impatient now to get it off and to feel Even against him again.  Even’s clothes are stubbornly clinging to his body and Isak’s fingers hook in every loop and seam as he struggles to remove them. 

The third time their teeth bang together, Even pulls back with a breathless laugh.  His eyes are big and his chest is heaving as his hands linger on Isak’s body. But his voice is surprisingly steady as he says, “Baby, we need to slow down a little.  How about you tell me what it is you want.”

“Oh.”  Isak says, feeling the heat in his cheeks as he drops the t-shirt he’s finally managed to get off onto the floor.  Feeling a little uncertain, he picks up the laptop and flips to the tab with all the gifs. “Here.” He shoves the laptop towards Even, and holds his breath as Even finishes removing his jeans and then leans against the wall next to Isak.  

Isak’s eyes flicker over Even’s face as he takes in the pictures.  He licks his lips, eyes glassy and mouth dropping open as he looks.  That’s a good sign, right? He doesn’t look disgusted anyway.

“You want to try fingering?”  Even asks, looking back over at Isak.  He feels the heat intensifying in his face as Even’s eyes flick back to the laptop as if drawn there.

“No,” Isak says, trying to gauge what Even wants.  Trying to see if Even is going to bail, but it doesn’t seem like he’s uninterested.  He looks … kind of turned on, actually, with his wide eyes and tongue that’s licking his lips unconsciously.  “Well … yes. I was actually just looking up stuff in general, but I found this page and it looks really … they seem to like that.”

“They certainly do,” Even says, dragging his eyes from the laptop again and over to Isak’s.  “Are you sure?”

“I’m so sure.”

Even’s eyes gleam as he leans over to kiss Isak.  It’s not a soft kiss, this one. It’s filled with passion and desire.  It tells Isak that Even wants this too and he can feel his dick hardening in anticipation.  

“Whoever is having that done probably needs to clean up a bit,” Even says now, breathing heavily as he lets their lips part.

“I … uh.  I already did that,” Isak says, thanking all the heavens that he decided to practice that earlier.

“That’s so sexy, baby.”  Even’s voice is hoarse as he kisses Isak again and Isak grins a little against his lips.

“I even got lube,” Isak says, feeling smug.  “Just in case.”

“God I love how thorough you are,” Even says, then he’s grabbing Isak’s face and kissing him again.  It’s so intense that Isak’s body is firing up at every small brush of Even’s fingers, or his body or lips.

This time, they manage to remove their clothes more effectively.  There’s less haste and more anticipation as Even slides Isak’s sweatpants off almost reverently, and Isak pulls Even’s t-shirt over his head.  Their boxers follow and soon Isak is lying on the bed, completely exposed. Even’s taking a moment to stare at him, to let his eyes roam over his body and Isak is flushed all over with the pleasure of someone  _ wanting _ to look at him like this.  He lets his leg drop onto the bed and follows Even’s eyes as they roam downwards and he swallows.  Isak pushes his foot against Even’s thigh, an impatient reminder to get a move on and Even’s eyes snap back up to Isak’s.

Then his mouth is on Isak’s dick and Isak can’t help the restless push up of his hips as he groans.  It’s been a while since Even did this (for Isak, currently, a few days counts as a while, he’s  _ that _ enamored of Even’s mouth) and the wet, warm feeling of that mouth on him is almost too much.  Isak lets his other leg fall, and Even’s fingers slide down from his balls to playfully skim around Isak’s ass.  His skin is fiery flashes as Even’s finger drifts nearer to the spot Isak had touched himself just an hour ago. Even’s mouth is still working on his dick, making soft twirls around the head with his tongue and Isak can hear the mumbling pleas he’s making.  It’s already too good, just being here and knowing Even’s fingers are going to be inside him soon. Then everything stops. Even’s mouth is gone, his fingers have stopped roaming, and Isak whimpers, letting his hips fall back down as his eyes flutter open. Even is sitting up, holding the lube.  He glances at Isak and grins encouragingly.

“Shh, baby, it’s okay,” he says as he finally manages to get it open and coat his fingers.  He reaches forward again, brushing against Isak’s rim, and all the fluttery, shivery feelings are back.

Then his finger is actually breaching Isak, and he tenses, his body resisting the intrusion.  It’s not painful, exactly. Just weird. Even pulls the finger back out with a startled curse, and Isak misses the feeling instantly.

“No, stay,” he says.  “It’s fine. Just different.”

He reaches out, trying to get Even to move back to where he was and is rewarded with a small smile.

“Okay,” Even breathes.  “You’ll tell me if it gets uncomfortable?”

Isak nods, relaxing his muscles as best he can.  Everything he read said you need to be relaxed and despite being so keyed up just from thinking about this, Isak does his best to comply.  Even slides the finger back in, with more confidence, and wiggles it a little. Isak sucks in his breath. Whatever he thought this would be like, it wasn’t this.  It feels full, not entirely pleasant but not unpleasant either. There’s pressure around the point where Even’s finger is entering Isak’s body and the sheer weight of that pressure is making Isak’s breath come in faster pants as Even wriggles the finger.  

Even withdraws it a little, then slides it back in and suddenly it all makes sense to Isak, why people like this.  The intensity of the feeling is lighting him up, and he can feel a soft sheen of sweat building up under the hair on his forehead.  He’s gasping now, his own fingers grasping against the sheets as they try to emulate what Even’s doing, and he’d feel horribly embarrassed that this is what’s doing that to him if Even’s own breaths weren’t becoming heavier and more intense too.  Then Even removes the finger entirely; Isak feels the suddenness of the loss, and whimpers again. He can still feel the phantom of that finger inside him and his body chases Even’s finger, wanting to get the feeling back.

Even laughs softly, his eyes impossibly fond as he looks up into Isak’s.  There’s raw lust there too, and Isak’s breath catches again.

“Can I try another?” Even asks, holding Isak’s gaze.  Isak can feel the want coursing through him as he nods.  Then Even has two fingers inside Isak and it’s so much that Isak almost can’t bear it.  He throws his head back and can feel the way his mouth drops open. It’s good, really good, and so fucking intense he never wants it to stop.  The way those fingers catch on his rim as Even moves them sends fire racing through Isak’s veins and the beads of sweat threaten to become a river.

“You okay?” Even asks.

Isak breathes out, slowly, trying to decide how he can best describe this to Even.  In the end, he decides to keep it simple then just opens his eyes and fixes Even with a besotted gaze.  “Fuck yeah,” he says, and finds himself smiling. Even’s grin in response is everything and Isak fall into those eyes and the promises they’re giving him.

Even’s fingers move again, and this time they hit something inside Isak that sends a shockwave right through him.  “Faen,” he says, his breath stuttering out of him as his body convulses at the touch. That might be the very best thing he’s ever felt.  Even rubs it again. Then again. And soon Isak is a writhing mess, his hands clenched tight in the sheets and his body tense as it pushes hard against Even’s fingers.  

“Fuck, Even.  I want …” another brush of those fingers over that spot and Isak moans out, “I need … shit …”

Then Even has Isak’s dick in his mouth, and he’s moaning around it as he keeps up the relentless pressure on that spot inside Isak.  It’s all too much, too many bright sparks of pleasure at once and Isak is suddenly spurting into Even’s mouth. He can’t help it, moans ripping out of him as the orgasm rushes through his body, leaving Isak shuddering in its wake.  

But through it all is a hot thread of shame.  How the fuck could he have done that? In the short time they’ve had together, Even’s made it very clear that a warning before you come is standard practice.  It’s polite, the decent thing to do. Also the idea that Isak was so far gone that he was incapable of controlling himself is another layer of shame. As his breath slowly returns to normal, and Even makes his way up Isak’s body, Isak can feel the embarrassed blush building.

Even’s lips brush over his, but Isak turns his head away, unable to bear looking into Even’s eyes and seeing the judgement and amusement there.  “I’m sorry,” Isak whispers, horrified at how small and timid his voice sounds. His breath is loud in the now-silent room, and there’s a small lump forming in Isak’s throat again.  He fucked up, and now Even’s going to know just how inexperienced and useless Isak is at all this.

Instead, Isak feels Even’s hands on his face and a gently insistent pull as he tries to get Isak to look at him.  Isak glances up into those eyes, but can’t hold the gaze for longer than a second. Even doesn’t look annoyed or hurt or any of the other things Isak’s worried about, but what if that changes in the next few moments.  Isak can’t bear to see that happen and know he’s the cause of it.

“What are you sorry for?”

Isak can feel the heat building even more in his cheeks.  Fucking asshole is going to make Isak say it out loud? Is this his punishment for what happened?  He glares at Even and finds himself squirming in discomfort. “You know what.”

“You mean the super hot coming in my mouth?”  Even’s voice is ragged, an honesty hidden in the rough, rushed words.  It pulls Isak up short, all his anxious worries slammed away by that one sentence said in  _ that _ tone.

“Hot?” Isak asks, this time letting his eyes meet Even’s.  There’s hope building, but Isak’s not ready yet to accept that Even genuinely enjoyed that.  That he found it good. Everything Isak’s ever read has suggested that being unable to control yourself is a huge turnoff during sex, and he’s still ashamed that it happened.  But Even’s not following the script Isak has been reading. He smiles, his eyes filled with loving admiration and, yes, also with lust. He presses against Isak, letting his dick dig into Isak’s thigh.

“Fucking hot,” he says.  “I almost came in my pants, it was that good.”

Isak laughs, he can’t help it.  His Even, his dorky boyfriend, seems entirely sincere, and his joking tone and the unabashed flaunting of his still-raging hard-on, the telltale expression of his desire, is making Isak feel much more at ease.  

“I’m serious.  I want to do it again, properly,” Even says.  His voice has taken on a tone Isak recognizes, the one which means  _ everything we do is hot and I want to do it all over and over again _ .

Isak smirks, happier now that Even has convinced him.  And why is it that Even’s jokes and his playful side can achieve what Isak never believes is possible: making Isak feel like he’s not stupid and he’s not doing something wrong?  This side of Even is such a blessing and Isak doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve it. 

“Okay,” Isak says.  “We can do that.” He takes a deep breath in, pushing all the negative thoughts and worries away so he can focus on this boy who is so good to him.  “We can do that,” he repeats, “but not right now; now it’s your turn.”

Even’s eyes are deep pools of blue as Isak holds his gaze and moves down his body.  Isak slides his fingers so he can hook them in Even’s boxers. They stick a little, snagging on Even’s hips as Isak tries to tug them down, and it’s with another blush that Isak hastily takes Even’s dick into his mouth.  As much as Even had protested, Isak still can’t quite shake the feeling that he did fuck up and he needs to make amends. But as soon as he tastes Even, feels the heft of his dick on his tongue, Isak loses all those fears and worries.   He loves this, loves the way Even’s fingers clamp in Isak’s hair, and the small whining sounds that spill out of his mouth. Isak loves the way Even reacts when he just moves his tongue in a different way, swirling it around the ridge under the head as Even’s body convulses off the bed.   

It’s with smug satisfaction that Isak realizes after a very few short sucks that Even is very very close.  His fingers tighten even more in Isak’s hair, almost to the point of pain. His body has tensed and he’s pulling a little, his fingers frantic as he manages to gasp out, “baby?  I’m gonna … gonna come.”

Just because he can, and because he’s been feeling so weirdly unsettled after his own experience, Isak swirls his tongue around the head one final time, just to hear that muffled gasp Even makes.  He glances up at Even as he lets his dick slip out of his mouth and smirks. “That didn’t take much.”

“I told you,” Even says, his voice strained.  “You were fucking hot and I was already close.”

Isak laughs, feeling confident again as he takes Even’s dick in his hand and kisses his way up his chest until he can press his lips to Even’s.   He’s stroking firmly, and it’s only a few moments before Even’s lips go slack against Isak’s and he’s gasping through his release.

In the aftermath, while Isak is lying tucked up against Even’s chest with his leg hooked in its customary place like he belongs here, he starts to take stock.  His body is still glowing from the sex they’ve had, and now that Isak is allowing himself to move past the embarrassment, he’s noticing all sorts of really nice things.  Things like the slight burn he feels around his rim as he shuffles against Even. Things like the way he can still feel Even’s fingers as phantoms inside, still feel the traces of their touch on his inner walls.  He wonders, with a sort of hazy heady delight, what he’d feel like right now if there had been a dick instead of fingers. How much  _ more _ would this feeling inside him be?

“I want to try so much stuff,” Isak says thoughtfully, running his fingers over Even’s chest and smiling.  “That was good. So good I think I want to try it with your dick instead of fingers. Someday, anyway.”

“Mmmm, whatever you want, baby,” Even says, though his body has tensed a little at the words and Isak can feel the sudden tightness in the muscles under his fingers.  

Even sounds like he’s sliding into sleep, though, so Isak keeps up the chat, trying to keep it as soft and unobtrusive as he can.  Murmuring quietly, he throws out ideas about what he wants to do, though there’s nothing  _ very _ adventurous really.  Just things he’s seen in porn that might be interesting to experiment with.  Beneath his fingers, Even’s body relaxes a little, and he shares some of his own thoughts.  They discuss rimming (they both think it sounds interesting, even if neither is truly sure how to go about it), and more fingering, with maybe more fingers (that idea sets Isak’s skin on fire again with the thought of feeling even  _ more _ afterwards, the phantom sensation of Even’s fingers still lingering as they talk).  Even mentions that he thinks the idea of fucking between Isak’s thighs is pretty hot, which makes Isak flush all over at the thought and he gives out an embarrassingly squeaky moan which makes Even grin.  Isak tentatively says he likes the idea of watching Even jack off. Even’s eyes go dark at that, and he leans down to kiss Isak thoroughly, sleepiness forgotten for a few blissful moments. 

It’s a good conversation, and Isak feels okay being open for once.  With Even so sleepy under his fingers, Isak feels more free to voice his thoughts.  It’s hard sometimes for Isak to talk like this, so openly, about his wants and needs.  It’s really fucking good to lie in relaxed happiness and discuss his sexual desires with someone who seems really keen to try them.  But never once does Even mention wanting to have his dick inside Isak, and Isak drops it even while he wonders a little at it, wonders why Even shied away from the idea.  He gives an internal shrug; it’s not that important. Not when Even is being so thoughtful and so gentle with everything else Isak has mentioned. His fingers keep running those soft patterns on Even’s body and his own relaxes into something close to stupor as he comes down fully from his high. 

The days slip one into the other that week.  Isak manages to focus at school through something akin to superhuman effort.  The world should be fucking proud of him, he thinks. Pushing all his Even-centric stuff aside, and keeping his brain applied to his work is a goddam miracle so everyone should be praising him to the skies right now.  Instead, Sana is scowling every lesson as if Isak has destroyed all her fondest wishes and Jonas is smiling in an amused way whenever he meets Isak’s eyes. Magnus and Mahdi greet him with teasing and good natured jokes about how he’s  _ finally managing to stop being so one-track, _ and Isak is starting to think all this enforced focus on not-Even isn’t really worth it.  Even spends most of his afternoons with his mother, returning to Isak to eat and sleep and covering an unsettled energy with jokes and sweet caresses.  That Even’s mother upsets him this much makes Isak upset too. But he’s reluctant to say anything because Even so clearly wants to make things right with his family, and Isak has no experience with a family that actually  _ works _ .  So it’s not like he can even offer any advice.

 

So when one afternoon finds them curled up on a couch at the kollektiv, beer in hand, Isak breathes a sigh of relief.  Even’s back is pressed into the corner of the couch, and Isak is leaning against him, feeling almost drowsy. His head is resting back against Even’s shoulder, and Even has dropped his head enough so that his lips are almost touching Isak’s neck.  It’s nice, and Isak’s feeling both keyed up from Even’s proximity, and very relaxed. He takes a sip of beer and grins, turns his head to look at Even even though he can barely see the corner of his chin.

“You’re so nice,” he says wistfully.  “Why are you so nice?”

“Are you drunk, baby?” Even asks. 

Huffing, Isak sits forward and twists his body so he can see Even properly.  “I ….” he starts, indignantly. “I am not drunk.” At Even’s snort, Isak softens a little.  “Okay, maybe I’m a little …” he waves his hand around, “tipsy.  _ Not _ drunk.”  He pokes one finger into Even’s chest for emphasis.

Even laughs and pulls him in for a kiss, holding the finger and dragging it up to his lips as well.  “If you’re not drunk, baby, then what’s with the weird questions?”

Isak lies back down against Even.  “I don’t know. I just feel like … out of all the people in this universe and all the other ones, you decided to stick with me, and I don’t understand why.”  

He shuffles a little, takes a sip of beer.  Behind him, he hears Even’s breathing change slightly -- moving from relaxed and even to something a little more hitched, a little more intense.  It’s the only sign Isak gets that Even heard him at all. “I don’t deserve nice.” He breathes it as softly as he can, hoping that Even can’t hear or will ignore it if he does.

“Baby …” Isak hears as he feels the gentle brush of Even’s lips against his ear.  “I can’t believe _ you _ picked  _ me. _  I’m the one who should be asking these questions.”

Isak laughs, his veins buzzing with the beer he’s been steadily consuming, his skin reacting to the sensation of Even’s lips on it, and his heart painfully full of Even and his kindness.  “We’re such a pair of losers,” he says, turning so he can kiss Even properly. Their lips move languidly, and Isak sighs his contentment. It’s uncomfortable, twisted like this, so Isak carefully sets his beer aside and moves so he can sit straddled on Even’s legs.  Almost immediately, Even’s hand is on the back of his neck and Isak shivers as his fingers scratch gentle patterns under his hair at the nape of his neck. Isak presses down with his hips, making Even groan into the kiss. As their lips part, his eyes are fixed on Isak’s and his breath is coming in small gasps.  Isak hums as he presses their lips together, rolling his hips again to elicit another of those beautiful groans from Even.

“My eyes!  My innocent eyes!” a voice rings out as the door to the room crashes open against the wall.  Isak leaps back so he’s resting on Even’s thighs, and his heart is thumping as the echo of that sound sends shockwaves through his body.

He relaxes a little when he turns enough to see Eskild grinning at him, with Linn hovering behind him wearing a small smile of her own.

“Jesus Christ, Eskild.  A little warning maybe?”  Isak says as he reluctantly slides off Even’s lap and sits down beside him again.  Even swings his legs down to accommodate Isak by his side.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Baby Gay.  Here I am just walking innocently into my own apartment …”

“Innocently, my ass,” Isak says, grabbing his beer again and taking a grumpy sip.  “You planned that.”

Next to him, Even is laughing, and his eyes are crinkled as he beams fondly at Isak.  “In fairness, baby, we probably wouldn’t have noticed a band arriving.”

“Speak for yourself,” Isak says, trying to sniff disdainfully, but ending up with something that sounds suspiciously like a fond snuffle.  “I can multitask. I’m the master of it.”

“Master, huh?” Even says, leaning in to run his nose along Isak’s and piercing him with those eyes that never fail to set Isak’s heart fluttering.  Their lips meet again, briefly, and Isak smiles as he pulls back.

“I’m going to my room,” Linn announces bluntly, pulling Isak’s attention away from Even.  “Try not to be too noisy.”

Isak rolls his eyes, but flushes at the implications.  He’s not that noisy, is he? Concern spikes in his belly as he thinks back to the last few days.  He knows he and Even have been having sex a lot; Even’s been insatiable and Isak has been just as eager to have his hands on Even every time they’ve been alone.  He knows that the walls here are thin and that sound carries a bit, but he hadn’t thought things had been loud enough to be overheard, at least not when other people were around.

“Fine, Linn,” Eskild calls after her, amusement lacing through his voice.  “We’ll whisper and tiptoe through our own home.” He throws himself onto the other couch and grins over at Isak and Even.  “Don’t mind her; she’s just a little tired and grumpy today.” His voice drops and he whispers, “it’s just that time for her, you know?”

“Hmmm,” Isak says.  Relief floods him at Eskild’s words; if Eskild feels it’s directed at him, too, then maybe things are actually okay.  Besides, he has to remember that there  _ are _ times when Linn thinks everything is too loud, days when she wants absolute silence and can’t deal with even the slightest rustle.  It’s not necessarily because Isak has been inconsiderate.

“She’s an interesting person,” Even says, wrapping his arm more firmly around Isak.  “Spends a lot of time in her room, yeah.”

“Depression can do that to you, Even,” Eskild says, sitting up and leaning forward.  He’s going into Godmother teaching mode, Isak recognizes and it makes him smile. He’s accepting Even, then.  Eskild never bothers with these little lectures if he hasn’t accepted the person he’s giving them to. “It’s not a good thing to experience, so we try to be nice to her.”

“She has depression?” Even asks, his voice careful as his arm tightens briefly on Isak’s shoulder.  

“You didn’t know?” Isak asks, turning to look at Even again.  “I thought we must have said.”

Even shakes his head, and his eyes are thoughtful.  “No. No, you never said.” He smiles, but there’s something fragile in it.  Something wistful and sad.

Isak’s about to say something, to ask where that fragility comes from, but then Eskild says, “nice technique there, by the way, Baby Gay.  Who knew you were such a natural at kissing,” and everything else flies away with Isak’s affronted gasp as he spins to glare at his friend.

“You’re not … you’re not supposed to be  _ looking, _ Eskild!”

“Ah, but how can I help guru-train my little protege if I can’t take notes when I’m able?  And you know, you were practically mauling this god among men in my living room; it’s not like I went looking.”

“That’s extremely disturbing, Eskild,” Isak says, suppressing a shudder.  “Please never say anything like that ever again.”

“I think he’s a great kisser,” Even says helpfully, smiling at Eskild.  “Great at lots of things, actually,” he adds with a smug wink.

Eskild’s face splits into a wide, delighted grin and he jumps up to grab Even off the couch and into a huge hug.  Even’s face is comical, with wide eyes and his hands waving uselessly as Eskild lets him go.

“I  _ like _ you,” Eskild says, nodding his approval and patting Even on the shoulder.  “My Baby Gay needs someone like you I think.”

“Fuck off, Eskild,” Isak grumbles from the couch.  “And fuck you, too,” he says as Even sits back down.  “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“You heard him, Isak.  He likes me. I have to play to my fans’ wishes.”

Isak rolls his eyes, and pushes Even as he laughs.  There’s an amusement in the tone, but Isak hears the truth behind the words and winces internally.  He hates that Even feels like this; that he feels like he has to be the most charming, the most friendly, the most entertaining.  That if he doesn’t people might not like him, and he’ll be rejected for being a brutish Beast.

“I’m your most adoring fan,” Isak says and leans in for a kiss.  “So it’s me you most need to please,” he adds in a whisper with a wink of his own with his lips just a breath away from Even’s.

Heat is stirring again in his belly as he lets his hand rest on Even’s thigh.  Even is looking at him with hazy eyes and his hand runs up so he can tease the skin under Isak’s ear with his fingers.  The oxygen feels like it’s being sucked out of the room again and Isak takes a shuddering breath.

“We need to … uh.  Go and study something,” Isak says, not taking his eyes off Even though his comment is directed at Eskild.  There’s a snort from behind his shoulder, but Isak doesn’t care. He stands and takes Even’s hand. Even follows willingly as they make their way into Isak’s bedroom, laughing a little as the door shuts behind them and Isak pushes him against it so he can kiss him thoroughly.  Eskild’s comments echo in his head, and Isak breaks the moment with a snort against Even’s lips.

“It’s that funny?” Even asks, his hands moving down so they rest on Isak’s hips, the thumbs dipping under Isak’s shirt and rubbing on his already keyed up skin.  Isak lets his forehead rest down on Even’s shoulder as he sniggers.

“I just can’t help imagining Eskild in here taking notes and making an assessment.”

Even’s breath whispers hot over Isak’s ear as he, too, laughs.  “Well, that’s a mood killer,” he says.

“Mmmm?”  Isak says, sliding his hands down so they cup Even’s ass.  “Really?” He pulls Even firmly against his body, letting him feel the stirrings of his dick.  Even makes a deep sound in the back of his throat and kisses Isak hungrily. Their lips move together, tongues sliding along each other, curling together and leaving Isak burning hot at every point where his body connects with Even’s.

“You’re right.  Momentary distraction,” Even says as he leans his forehead against Isak’s, breathing heavily, his own dick now firm as it presses against Isak’s thigh.

Isak laughs, charmed again by Even’s ability to make every situation fun and playful.  “You’re a fucking idiot,” he says.

“Well, if I’m a fucking idiot, you’re the one fucking an idiot, so …”

“Are you ever going to shut up when we do this?” Isak asks, shoving Even playfully until he starts moving towards the bed.

Even pulls off his shirt and throws it aside, then pushes at Isak’s.  “Never,” he says, as he drags the t-shirt over Isak’s head. They’re kissing again, each one a small affirmation of want and desire between the removal of each item of clothing.  By the time they get to the bed, they’re naked. Isak climbs on backwards and Even plops himself down onto his lap, kissing up along his neck and making his breath stutter in his throat as his fingers press into Even’s shoulders.  He’s tense, his body straining, taut. He wants Even’s hands on him, wants to feel the blessed release that’d going to come when Even touches his rigid dick.

So it’s something of a shock when Even rolls off him and reaches into the drawer of the nightstand.  He crows when he sits back up, and Isak blinks when he sees the bottle of lube in his hand. His puzzlement grows when Even lies down beside him and clicks open the lid.

“What are you doing?” Isak asks, rolling onto his side and staring at Even, eyes following his hand as he smears lube on it and then lets it drop to his dick.

“I thought you didn’t like talking?” Even teases as his hand wraps around his own dick.  He closes his eyes briefly and hisses, jerking as the clearly cold lube hits his heated skin.  Isak gapes at him, eyes still drawn to Even’s hand as it lazily strokes up and down. The slick sound of the lube as Even’s hand moves sends heat straight to Isak’s own dick, and he moans a little.  Even laughs, the sound drawing Isak’s eyes up to his face and he whispers intently, “that. That’s what I’m doing.” His smile lights his eyes from within and Isak’s breath catches. “You said you wanted to see this.”  He nods down at his hand as its movements speed up. Even’s voice is coming in breathy gasps as he continues. “So I’m … doing it.”

“Oh,” Isak says, overwhelmed.  He lets his eyes linger now. He knows Even wants him to.  It’s a lot. “That’s … you’re …” His voice trails off because he has no words for how cherished this makes him feel.  Even listened, he remembered and he’s here willing to give Isak something he wants.

“Wow,” Even says, his voice amused even as it hitches on the word.  “So eloquent, Isak.”

Isak reaches out, lets his fingers run along Even’s thigh.  Senses the tensing of his muscles under his touch. All the time, though, his eyes are fixed on the head of Even’s dick as it runs through Even’s fist.  He’s twisting his hand now, letting it turn on the upstroke, his thumb pressing the slit at the top of every movement. Behind the hand, his belly is tautening, the muscles tensing as his hand moves faster.  His breath is coming in ragged pants, a sound Isak is used to hearing but which feels different today. Usually, Even’s abs aren’t particularly defined, and Isak has never really cared, loving the way Even’s body is so long and lean.  But now, the way he’s lying coupled with the tension as he nears his release, has lent definition to his body and Isak finds his mouth watering a little. He lets his fingers wander over to run over them, reveling in the way Even’s breath draws in as Isak explores his body.  

Their fingers brush, Isak’s questing behind Even’s hand, and Even’s breath becomes even more ragged.  “Fuck,” he manages to moan as he throws his head back, drawing Isak’s eyes to the long column of his throat.  Even’s eyes are on Isak’s, and he blushes, realizes Even’s probably been watching him this whole time, taking in the way Isak’s been so intrigued by the way Even looks as he does this.  He leans in to kiss Even, and as their lips touch, tongues licking out, Even’s mouth goes slack against Isak’s and there’s warm stickiness landing on Isak’s hand.

He pulls back, looking Even in the eye and grins.  “You’re so fucking amazing. Thank you,” he says as Even’s chest heaves and he lies boneless on the bed.

“It was okay?”

“More than okay, baby,” Isak says.  “Hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Way better than porn.”

Even laughs, breathily, then gathers Isak in to cuddle.  He chuckles when he feels Isak’s dick still hard against his thigh.  “Gimme a minute, baby, and I’ll take care of that for you.”

“You don’t have to,” Isak says.

“No,” Even agrees.  “But I want to.”

His fingers are already wandering, sliding down Isak’s body to teasingly sit on his hip, thumb slipping down so it’s almost brushing his dick.  Isak takes a startled breath in, his skin already reacting to the fire that always sits in Even’s touch. Once Even’s hand has wrapped around him, and Even’s lips are on him again, Isak’s lost in Even’s eyes and it’s, frankly, very embarrassing how few strokes it actually takes before Isak’s whimpering, his body licking fire through every vein, his balls tensed up.

“Faen” he moans, his voice cracking as Even’s hands speeds up.  “Faen, Even … I’m …”

Even pulls Isak in closer, lets him bury his head in his neck, and doesn’t even flinch when Isak can’t help biting down, teeth nipping lightly as he’s hit by his own orgasm.  

They lie together in the aftermath, Isak’s breath still coming in short pants as he gets his body under control.  Even’s fingers are running careful paths along Isak’s back as he settles down into their usual sleeping position. Even’s restless, though.  Isak can feel it. His body is thrumming with energy, his toe tapping out a beat on the duvet covering them, and a quick tune whistling through his lips.

“You want something to eat?” Isak asks.

“Hmmmm?”  Even stops whistling and glances at Isak.  “Oh. No, I don’t think so. I’m fine”

“Well,” Isak says.  “I’m starving. Gonna go get some kebab.”

“You know what we should do, Isak?” Even says, his eyes shining with delight as Isak sits up and looks around for his clothes.  “We should get some weed, and some kabab, and go swimming somewhere.”

Isak laughs.  “Idiot,” he says fondly, leaning over to snatch up his discarded t-shirt before standing to find his jeans and underwear.  “There’s no way I’m swimming. But I’m down for weed and kebab.”

Even jumps up, grinning, and pulls Isak into another kiss.  “You’re so fucking awesome,” he says. 

They go out, they eat and smoke and Isak is fully relaxed for the first time in what feels like forever.  Even’s so bright and bubbly, laughter spilling out of him and his feet dancing through the streets as they walk together.  Isak can’t help staring at him, at his joyous profile as he throws his head back to laugh delight at some small thing he sees.  Isak can feel his heart swelling, and he can’t quite believe how lucky he is to have this boy by his side. He knows he has a tendency to be a little grave at times, to get caught up in his head.  He knows his humor tends more to sarcastic barbs and witty comebacks, caustic and biting. Yet with Even, Isak feels like he can let all that go. All his masks, and the layers of effort they take, that Isak often still finds himself donning -- they all fall away when he’s with Even, who’s so willing to live in the moment and be entirely himself.

 

It’s hard to shake the idea that it can’t last, that something this good can’t possibly be Isak’s for long.  So when he kisses Even goodbye before they leave for school the next day, there’s an ever present whisper at the back of his head that something will go wrong today.  The day drags, as usual when he’s not with Even, and Isak can’t wait for the moment when they reconnect after Even’s return from his parents’ apartment. It’s only when Even’s with him again that Isak can silence that voice.  

Time stretches, and Isak finds himself checking his phone far more often than usual as the hours pass and Even doesn’t return.  He knows it’s stupid to worry, knows that Even always comes back, and that if he doesn’t he sends a message. And maybe it’s a message that Isak is expecting today.  It’s been a long time since Even slept at his parents’ place, and Even has been grumbling lately that they want him there more often. So Isak knows Even’s probably getting pressure from them today.  That doesn’t make it easier.

The phone shrills, startling Isak out of his thoughts, and he grabs it.  It’s an incoming call from an unknown number and Isak can feel his heart’s beats speed up.  Frantic thumps send anxiety thrumming through Isak as he presses the accept button with shaking fingers.

“Hello?”

“Hello?  Is that Isak?” a male voice asks, and Isak can feel the tension swamping his entire body.  That voice is not breezy and cheerful, that voice is filled with a stress and tension even in these simple words.

“Yes?  What’s … what’s wrong?”

“It’s Even,” the voice says.  There’s a quiver in the tone, and Isak can’t breathe.  “He’s … he’s sick, Isak.”

Just like that, Isak’s world collapses.  Even and sick are two things that should never connect.  Even, vital, amazing Even, can’t be  _ sick. _  Not the sort of sick this voice is suggesting anyway.

“Sick?  What do you mean?  Is he in hospital? Can I see him …”

Isak stands, starts grabbing things.  His jacket, his keys, wallet, shoes to put on in the hallway.

“No,” the voice says, cutting into the panicked questions and Isak stops moving, alerted by something in that voice.  Something that says this is normal, that this voice has experienced this before. “Not sick like that. I had thought he’d have told you.”

“Told me what?”

There’s a heavy sigh on the other end of the line, a rustle and a crackle as if the man, Even’s father, Isak thinks, has moved quickly and is breathing too harshly too close to the phone.  “He has Bipolar Disorder, and he’s manic. You know what that means?”

“No, not really,” Isak says slowly, trying to process this.  Bipolar Disorder? 

“Hmmm, okay,” the voice says, sounding resigned.  It continues quietly, almost as if speaking to itself.  “This would be so much easier if Sonja were around. But …” There’s another sigh and another crackle.  The voice gets firmer, louder, and is obviously addressing Isak again. “He says he’s coming to you.”

“Okay, that’s fine,” Isak says.  He sets down everything he’s gathered up, and looks around the room.  It’s startling to see it all just as he’d left it this morning, before this tilted everything off its axis.  If Even’s coming here, what does Isak need to do to make it ready for him? What do you do for someone who’s manic?

“No, Isak.  It’s not fine.  He needs proper help, not …”  There’s another pause as if the man is trying to figure out what to do or say.  In the end, he says, “we need to be with him, Isak. You understand? We’ve looked, but we couldn’t find him.  So now I need you to tell me your address.”

“Yeah,” Isak says, unthinking, blindly trying to make sense of what he’s just been told.  “Yeah of course.”

He gives Even’s father his address and then hangs up.  Isak stares down at his phone for a few seconds before setting it down carefully as if it might explode, and then walking out to the kitchen on feet that don’t feel real.  His head is buzzing and it feels like all noise is coming to him down a long pipe.

“Baby Gay, you’re just in time!  Linn is here and we’re going to have some food.”

Eskild’s voice is incongruous in the fog that’s taken over Isak’s mind.  It’s too normal and mundane for what is happening here and now. Isak shakes his head, barely registering the way his ears feel like they’re stuffed full of cotton, then turns and walks back towards his bedroom.  There’s a muffled thud from behind him, loud footsteps. Then a hand grabs his wrist and Isak stumbles to a halt.

“Isak?  What’s wrong?”

The first thing to register is that Eskild has used his name and not ‘Baby Gay’ -- somehow that pierces his stupor and brings Isak a little closer to reality.

“It’s Even,” he says, his voice sounding mechanical and disconnected from himself.  “He’s … he’s …”

The reality of what he’s just been told crashes in and Isak sinks onto the couch, which is thankfully nearby.  His hand is gripped tight in Eskild’s, and he’s thankful that Eskild is sitting next to him, lending support. 

“Something happened to Even?” Eskild prompts, and there’s something in his voice that pulls Isak, that makes him really take note.  It’s something anxious and fearful, something that suspects the worst.

“No.  Yes. Not like that.  Just …” Isak takes a breath, lets it out on a shaky exhale.  “He’s manic and he’s coming here. His pappa … they didn’t know where I live, so … he called.”

“Manic?  Like he’s crazy, or something?”

Fury rises in Isak.  How dare Eskild insinuate something like that?  How dare he reduce Even to being something so cold and harsh and untrue?  “No,” Isak snaps. “He’s bipolar. That’s … he’s not  _ crazy. _  He’s Even.”

Linn has trailed into the room by now, drawn perhaps by the energy buzzing between Isak and Eskild.  Seers always tend to find tension and conflict enhance their senses, and Linn has always been more sensitive than most.  She sinks down on Isak’s other side, and takes his hand in hers. “Okay,” she says. “How long have we got?”

“I don’t … actually, I don’t know,” Isak says.  “His pappa never said.”

“Well, if we assume a tram ride, how long?”

“Maybe ten minutes?” Isak says.  “He said … maybe they’ve been out to look for him?”

“It will be okay, Isak,” Linn says.  “He’ll be fine.”

“Is that a prophecy?” Eskild asks, his voice more cheerful now that Isak has calmed a little.  Eskild is never happy when his charges are out of sorts; it offends something in his Godmother nature.  

“Mmmm.”  Linn’s non committal answer tugs at Isak, but it helps anyway.  Even if it’s not a prophecy, there’s a conviction there. And of course she knows some of this.  Linn’s own experiences will help her understand.

“What do I do?”  Isak asks, turning to her, desperate for something to  _ do, _ for something that allows him to feel useful rather than helpless the way he does now.  “What do I say? How do I help?” He sucks in a deep breath and tries to smile. “Why didn’t he tell me?”

In answer, Linn grips his hand harder.  She opens her mouth to say something more when there’s a skittery knocking on the door.  Eskild jumps up and rushes over, but Isak’s not far behind. The door opens to an Even who looks a little wild and a little disheveled, but who is still achingly familiar.  He falls into Isak’s arms and clutches at his back. Isak wraps his own arms around Even and holds on. This, he understands. Holding Even is natural. He breathes out, the jittery tension from earlier dissipating at Even’s touch.  Whatever happens, however this is, it’s still Even and he’s still Isak’s. Anything else, Isak can manage.

It’s hard, though.  Even is a little too bright, a little too happy, a little too energetic.  Watching him, knowing now what he does, Isak wonders why he didn’t see it before.  There have been signs the last week or two. Even’s delight in everything, his energy, his playfulness.  It’s all been a little off, and Isak  _ had _ noticed it but he hadn’t registered what it meant.  There’s a moment of stress and worry as Isak wonders how much of the last few weeks has been true and real, because this Even doesn’t seem fully present.  His mind is jumping from idea to idea, he’s not settling to anything, can’t sit still. He’s moving from place to place, the words he’s saying seemingly sparking from whatever he happens to see.  It’s close to nonsense, and Isak can’t follow any of it.

Then Even’s eyes light on Isak, his face splits into one of his beautiful smiles and his expression softens into one of such fondness that Isak’s breath is sucked out of him.  

“Baby,” Even says, reaching out and taking Isak’s hand.  “Baby, you’re so fucking amazing. So tall and sexy, so beautiful.  Lips, eyes, hands. Beautiful.”

Isak manages a laugh, wraps his arm around Even’s shoulder.  “You’re the beautiful one,” he says.

“No.  Nononono,” Even says, pulling back and frowning, his face creasing in confusion.  “You. So beautiful, so strong. Mine.” He grabs Isak into another long hug, breathing into his neck and standing still for the first time since he arrived here.

“Yeah, baby.  Yours,” Isak says.  He looks over Even’s shoulder at Eskild, desperately trying to communicate with his eyes.  He’s not sure what to do. Eskild shrugs, his eyes wide and his hands splayed in helpless defeat.  Even’s muttering something into Isak’s shoulder, but it’s muffled and so quick-fire that Isak can’t really make it out.  Except that the word ‘love’ spills out and it makes Isak’s heart stutter. Even’s lips move restlessly over the sensitive skin of Isak’s neck, too, making his knees weak and sending heat straight to his dick.  This Even is so much more affectionate and caring than usual. The amount of focus he’s got on Isak is almost overwhelming.

The buzzer to the flat rings and Isak is startled out of the moment.  This time, both Linn and Eskild go to the door, opening it to reveal Even’s parents.  At the sound of their voices, Even’s head snaps up and then he’s moving again. This time his eyes are fixed warily on his parents and he’s snarling at odd intervals.  

“Oh Even” his mother says, moving towards him with her hand outstretched.  “You’re safe! We’ve been so worried.”

“I’m fine,” Even says, twisting out of her way and waving his arms towards Isak, a beaming smile on his face, one that twists Isak’s heart and makes him smile too.  There’s no way he’s faking that joy. “Isak’s here, and it’s good. It’s  _ great!” _

“Mmmm,” his father says, doubt in his voice.  His eyes skitter to where Isak is standing, his hands shoved awkwardly in his pockets and tension riding across his shoulders.  It’s clear in the glance what he thinks of Isak and his effect on Even.

“I know it’s a lot of trouble,” Even’s father says now, “but it’s very good of you to let him stay.  He was very worked up … kept saying he wanted to be here with you.”

Isak can hear the disdain in his tone and he wants to growl himself, so it’s no surprise when the words draw one out of Even.  Isak doesn’t blame him for this reaction. It’s obvious his parents are concerned about him, but it’s equally obvious that whatever emotions Even is feeling, they’re heightened by their presence.  When he’d arrived here, his ramblings were all joyous, jumping around yes, but he was happy. Now that they’re here with him, Even is much less excited, though he’s still clearly in the grip of his mania.

“It’s best if he comes home now, though.”

Even’s mother, this time.  Her voice is so calm and measured that Isak would almost believe that she doesn’t care, that she isn’t emotional right now.  But there’s a look in her eye that belies her seemingly composed manner. She’s worried, desperately, about her son. Her eyes flicker to him and over the other people in the room at a constant rate.  Her lips are trembling a little even as she keeps her voice as calm and relaxed as possible.

“It’s not fucking home,” Even snaps, and she flinches a little at the harshness of his tone.  Even’s voice is ragged, and Isak can hear the discomfort bleeding into it now. This is an Even who’s starting to feel anxious, and it saddens Isak that he’s feeling that way.  That his parents being here are making him feel that way. Then Even looks at him again and his face creases into the smile he saves just for Isak. “No me without him,” he adds.

It’s matter of fact and Isak feels his heart easing again.  But Even’s eyes are still looking anxious, they’re flitting about, more than they have been, and he’s making little aborted movements towards the door as if he wants to flee.  As much as Isak knows Even’s parents have been doing this for a long time and know what works, Isak instinctively feels a need to reach out. Before he can, however, Even’s mother has grabbed his arm and Even has flung it off with a loud curse, making her gasp and draw away.

“Baby.  Hey, baby,” Isak says, moving into his space and trying to pull his attention.  “I’m here; it’s okay.”

Even stills, his frantic rush for the door halted.  He turns towards Isak, and Isak makes himself smile.  In truth, it’s not that hard. This is Even; he may be a lot more energetic than usual, and his filter may be lacking a little, but he’s still the Even that Isak knows and cares for.  Ignoring everyone else, because they make him anxious and that’s not going to help Even, Isak moves so he can touch. His hand settles on Even’s cheek and he feels a heady rush of satisfaction when Even leans into it.  Isak can do this, he  _ can _ give Even what he needs.

“Hey,” Even says, grinning at Isak, his eyes so affectionate that Isak almost can’t breath from the wonder of it.  “We should get a kitten, okay. You like kittens, right?”

Isak laughs, softly.  Of course Even likes kittens; they’re just like he is: soft and cuddly and playful.  

“Yeah, baby.  I really do.”

Even’s calm for now and Isak leads him to a couch and sits down with him, his arm slung around Even’s shoulder possessively.  He’s overcome with a need to protect this boy, to keep him safe. It seems like when he’s with Isak, Even feels better. So Isak will do whatever it takes to keep him by his side and away from the people who are making him feel anxious.  Once he has Even calm and settled, Isak turns his attention to the conversation swirling around him. Even’s parents are arguing with Eskild, who is being very forceful. More forceful than Isak has seen him in a long time.

“He should stay …” Eskild starts, but there’s a loud snort of derision from Even’s mother and Eskild is cut off, gaping at her in consternation.

“He’s not well,” she says.  “You can’t possibly think that you can look after him here. He needs help, not … whatever it is that these two get up to.”

Isak cringes at her tone.  There’s such clear distaste in her voice that he actually feels it as a solid weight.  It’s not like he doesn’t know this is the way she feels, but it’s much harder to hear her say it where other people can hear.  He’s about to defend himself when Eskild rises to his feet and towers over her where she’s sitting on the other couch.

“I think you’ll find he’s happier with Isak.  Let him stay. It’s what he wants.”

Even’s mother, too, gets to her feet and she’s about to let loose, Isak can tell.  Her eyes are glinting and she’s standing forward on her toes, hands starting to ball into fists.  Eskild is unmoved, his own eyes filled with a fire that Isak has seldom seen.

“I’m not going to leave him like this,” she says, stepping forward, trying to intimidate Eskild.  It’s the Beast in her, Isak guesses, using what is a usual tactic to dominate a conversation. But Eskild never flinches, just looks down at her with his stare fixed, and a pleasant smile on his face.  As if he expects her to comply and is just waiting to work out the details.

“No me without him,” Even says from beside Isak.  He’s looking at Isak and the sincerity and affection in that look makes Isak smile.  He’s exhausted, and the tension building in the room is making him anxious. He can feel his heart beating and his hands are damp with sweat.  He’s shaky and confused, anxious about Even and worried that he’ll be forced away from Isak. There’s no saying how long it’ll be before Isak can see Even again if his parents are successful in taking him away.  Even’s face changes a little, concern bleeding into the fondness. “Sleeps better with me,” he mutters. “I’m staying.” As if to punctuate the idea, Even burrows into Isak’s side. It’s forceful, almost painful, how quickly he does it.  But the message is clear. Even doesn’t want to move. Isak lets himself run his fingers over Even’s cheek, and feels the smile that blooms under his hand. Their eyes meet, briefly, and Even’s smile widens. 

“Fine.” Even’s mother’s voice grinds out, as if it’s giving her pain to concede even this much.  She’s not happy, Isak thinks, but it’s also obvious that Even isn’t going to go anywhere. “Fine.  He stays, but we’re here every day too. And you call if anything happens.” She’s uncertain that this is the right thing to do, that much is clear.  But it’s enough. She’s not going to stop Isak from seeing Even, and that’s all that matters. The idea of these people invading his home over and over and over again makes Isak shudder.  But if that’s what it takes to keep hold of this boy he’s almost certain he loves, then Isak will accept it.

She gathers her things, scattered as they were when they arrived so hastily, and sniffs as she sits back down.  Her husband sits next to her, and vaguely Isak can hear Eskild hammering out details of what needs to be done. It seems to involve a paper and a long list of requirements.  Every now and then, Isak feels their eyes on him. They’re not happy that he’s not taking part, and their growing dislike is showing in their curled lips and sniffed comments.

Isak doesn’t care, though.  There’s only one important person in this room and it’s not Even’s parents.  Even’s starting to get restless again, but this time it’s coming out in rambling compliments of Isak’s hair, nose, eyes, lips, and even at one point a glowing review of his dick.  Blushing, Isak glances at the other couch, but thankfully Even had dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper and the others are so engrossed in their list making that Isak doesn’t think they hear.

Even’s parents are finally convinced to leave, through the combined efforts of Eskild’s persuasive demeanor and Linn’s not-so-subtle insinuations that she’d really like her home back to normal so she can go to bed and sleep.  They kiss Even’s head as they leave and Isak feels like an asshole for being so shitty in his thoughts. They care about Even, which is clear in everything they do for him. They just don’t seem to  _ understand _ him, and the idea stresses Isak out.  They’ve known Even for his whole life, so how can it be possible that he has a better understanding of what Even needs?  It seems presumptuous and he tries to shake the thoughts away. He stands, holds out his hand to shakes Even’s parents’ hands, and shows them to the door.  

“You’ll call tomorrow?” Even’s dad asks as they leave.  Isak nods, wearily, then closes the door behind them, slumping back against it.  He’s tired, so tired, and starving now too. In the shock of the discovery and then the hustle and bustle of the time since Even arrived, he hasn’t had a chance to eat.  Casting a glance at the couch where Even is now perched, regaling Eskild with tales of how beautiful he thinks Isak is, Isak slips out to the kitchen and makes a sandwich as fast as he can.  By the time he returns to the living room, he’s exhausted, his lack of sleep having finally caught up with him now that the adrenalin has seeped from his body.

“Hey, baby?” Isak says as he slips into the seat next to Even.  “I’m going to go to sleep now. Do you want to come?”

Even’s response is delighted agreement, and when they get to the bedroom he wraps Isak up in his arms and starts kissing him.  Isak’s body responds in the way it always does, and as much as Isak loves the idea, it’s his body that betrays him too. He yawns widely, shaking with fatigue, and slumps down onto the bed.  He can barely take his clothes off before he slides under the duvet. Even settles down beside him, leaning back against the wall behind Isak’s bed, and Isak smiles as he lets his head rest on Even’s thigh.  Even’s fingers brush through his hair, and he’s treated to another litany of all his many perfections as his eyes start to slide shut. Just before he goes under, Eskild pokes his head around the door to let them know he’s bolted the front door and made sure the windows are all secure.  Even’s parents had been insistent that he be kept inside while he’s in this state and Eskild has taken it very seriously. In hindsight, the only reason Isak suspects they’ve let Even stay here is because Eskild’s Godmothering comes across as so deeply responsible.

“Thanks, Eskild,” Isak says through another yawn, wriggling a little so his head is more comfortable and Even’s fingers slip to caress just behind his ear.  “You’re so nice.”

“Sleep well, Baby Gay,” Eskild says.  “Look after him, Even.”

The last thing Isak hears as he finally succumbs to sleep is Even’s delighted laugh ringing out and his promise that he will, indeed, look after Isak.  For as long as Isak will let him.


	7. Chapter 7

It’s warm here, and Isak snuggles a little, burrowing closer to the body that’s pressed against his.  This spot Isak has laid his head on is harder than he’s used to and the angle is odd, but it carries the scent of Even, a musk, a hint of weed and something that’s probably laundry detergent.  It’s clean and warm, suggesting a dryer has been at these clothes pressed so close to Isak’s nose. It’s comforting lying here, a calming spot in the whirl his dreams had been, so it’s an irritating intrusion when the steady warm body part he’s been leaning on tenses and starts to move away.  Isak’s head rolls so his face lands on the mattress and he instinctively reaches out with his arm, circling the bits of Even he can reach.

“No,” he mutters.  “Stay.”

He moves so he can look up at Even.  It’s a long way up from his position here by his leg, but Isak stirs more as he sees Even’s face looking down at him in what looks like startled bewilderment.  Which is odd. Who did Even expect to see here? Then Even’s lips curve into one of his gorgeous smiles and Isak loses all his thoughts as he watches that face transform.  Even’s so beautiful, even mussed and dazed like he is now.

“You’re beautiful,” Even says, in an ironic replay of Isak’s own thoughts.  He leans down a little and Isak can see the sincerity sparkling in Even’s eyes.  “Like a painting, a masterpiece. You should be in a museum. Maybe we can go to a museum now; museums deserve you.”

Isak frowns.  That’s such a weird comment and he’s not sure how to process it.  Why would a museum deserve him? If there’s a dichotomy, is there something that  _ doesn’t _ deserve him?  What is Even trying to say?  It’s frustrating that Isak can’t quite tell what’s going on here.  There’s a lingering fear that Isak isn’t going to be able to help Even while he’s like this.  He’s different enough, off in the slightest way, that Isak feels like he’s at sea. He can see the shore, but he can’t get there and it’s so frustrating when he’s always been able to understand Even.  

His tired thoughts are interrupted when Even moves again, and Isak instinctively tightens his arm around Even’s waist.

“No.  Stay here.  I want you to stay.”

This, though.   _ This _ makes sense.  His body and Even’s body, close together, fitting around each other in the easiest way.  Isak feels the tension seeping out of Even’s leg as he relaxes back against the wall behind him.  It’s enough. Even’s words and his thoughts may be running along a track Isak can’t follow him onto, but his body still tells the same story it always has.  His body still reacts as it usually does to Isak’s. It molds itself to the planes of Isak’s, as if by instinct.

“I’m sorry,” Even says now in a very hesitant voice.  It hurts Isak, that voice. Tells a story of someone who’s suffering.  So Isak wriggles closer, trying to let Even’s body feel what his brain seems to want to avoid.  Trying to show Even that Isak’s here and he’s willing to do whatever it takes.

“Mmmm,” Isak says as he lets his head relax against the soft part of Even’s thigh.  “What are you sorry for?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

Isak lets his feelings out in a soft hum against Even’s thigh.  He’s so content, here like this. He wishes Even wouldn’t be so down on himself, but he can already tell that Even’s falling into a place where things aren’t vibrant and rosy.  Isak doubts there’ll be many odes to his dick again anytime soon. This morning’s Even isn’t in that sort of space; this morning’s Even is despairing for some reason.

“You didn’t need to tell me,” Isak says now, and he can feel the sleepiness pulling at him again despite the concern for Even.  Last night was filled with unhappy dreams and brief flashes of awareness that Even wasn’t always in the bed all night. It wasn’t pleasant, that sleep, but the aftermath lends a coziness to this moment that Isak is grateful for.  He smiles as he tries to convey all this to Even. “We agreed; we talk when it’s the right time.”

“I should still have told you, before …”

It’s ironic that Even thinks that way, because Isak still has things he’s not telling, either.  And even now, the idea of saying any of them makes Isak’s insides tense up and sets his body shaking.  He stays as still as he can, hoping Even doesn’t notice the tremors. One thing is important in all this, though, and that’s to make sure that Even understands that not talking isn’t a problem.  Isak’s never been more sure of anything in his life. Yeah, Even kept this from him and yeah it’s such a big thing that Isak feels a little overwhelmed at the thought of trying to understand it. But there’s one thing Isak does know and it’s that Even had no obligation to say anything.  So he tries to make that clear.

“It’s okay,” he says, letting as much sincerity into his voice as he can.  “It’s really okay.” 

“It’s really not,” Even bites out, and  _ his _ voice is harsh and angry.  He’s tensed again under Isak’s cheek, his jaw is rigid when Isak looks up at him and it startles Isak into a sitting position so he can take Even in completely.  He’s pulled back, his eyes fearful behind the anger. So, taking every ounce of control that he has, Isak smiles. He tries to make it as loving as he can, but there’s something sad and lost in Even’s eyes that makes Isak think he wasn’t as successful as he’d hoped.  He reaches out to touch Even’s face, hoping maybe to wipe away that sad look in his eyes. But all he gets is a look of even deeper despair. He sucks in a breath and tries to widen the smile, tries to coax Even to smile back. It doesn’t work.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to prove,” Isak says, after taking a deep breath, “but it’s not something you owe to anyone.  Not even me.”

Even’s eyes fill with tears and he drags his gaze away from Isak’s.  Which is the opposite of what Isak had intended to do. And  _ fuck; _ he can’t fucking do this.  He feels like someone has turned off all the lights in the house that is Even, suddenly and with no prior warning, and while Isak can feel his way through the rooms of Even’s mind with muscle memory, the darkness just accentuates how easy it was to see before.

So he falls back on what was easier earlier.  His body reacting to Even’s body. He curls into Even, lets his shoulder slide into its usual place against Even’s chest, lets his head slot naturally into a position where he can press a kiss to Even’s lips.  He feels a brief tug of Even’s lips as they connect, and the whisper of a kiss on his hair as he settles down fully. It’s enough. For now. He lets himself sleep again, hoping that Even stays, that the relaxing of his body is a precursor to him sleeping too.  Isak was alert enough in the night to know that Even didn’t sleep much at all.

When he wakes again, Isak is so tightly wound in Even’s arms that he can barely breathe.  Even’s clutching Isak so hard it’s like he thinks Isak will disappear while they sleep. Isak extricates himself from Even’s embrace and slides out of bed as carefully as he can.  He looks down at Even as he sleeps, his arms pulled in tight to his body now and a frown sitting between his eyes. As Isak watches, Even mutters something, his lips curve downwards and he makes a soft unhappy noise in the back of his throat.  Heart aching in his chest and a lump forming in his throat, Isak forces himself to back away and move to the door.

As he goes, Isak notices the papers spread all over the floor.  There seem to be hundreds of them, and Isak’s not even sure where Even might have found that many sheets to draw on.  But that thought is a fleeting secondary one to the overwhelming fondness that wells up in Isak as he gazes around. So many of the pictures feature Isak.  He recognizes himself by the snapback (always red; that must be Even’s favorite and Isak stores the knowledge away for another day) and the curls peeking out from under it.  There are others of the two of them, most showing Even staring adoringly at Isak. Some of them show the two of them cuddled up together, others have Isak with his friends and Even staring at him from a distance.  Scattered amongst these pictures are also many images of dicks. Some are intricately, lovingly sketched and anatomically correct, others are crude and hastily scribbled. All are pointing at some picture of Isak as if suggesting what Even wants to do.  The juxtaposition of the two types of pictures makes Isak’s lips curl into a smile. This is how he’s always seen them; at once blissfully domestic and also deeply sexual. It fits, it’s them, and Isak wouldn’t have them any other way. The Even who drew these pictures was an Even who was tuned into what makes them Isak-and-Even, and Isak loves it.  

He casts one final look back towards the bed and sighs.  This Even is not the one who drew these pictures and a sadness tugs at Isak’s heart as he realizes that.  Leaving Even behind in his bed is one of the hardest things Isak has ever had to do. Isak doesn’t know much about Bipolar Disorder (and he resolves to research the fuck out of it as soon as he can) but he can tell that Even has dropped alarmingly quickly from jubilant buoyancy to self disgust and sadness.  If over-excited Even had been a lot to take in last night, Isak is uncomfortably sure that this low energy, self-detesting Even is going to be even harder. The way he had criticized himself had made Isak’s heart stutter in his chest; it’s inconceivable that  _ Even _ of all people thinks so harshly of himself.  

Isak sighs as he pushes the door closed behind him.  His stomach is rumbling and he can feel the overwhelmed panic starting to encroach.  Neither of those is something he can solve sitting in his room and staring at his boyfriend, wondering what’s going to happen and how things are going to be.  So he runs a hand through his hair, trying to look something like his normal self, and makes his way towards the kitchen. His hand, he’s startled to notice, is shaking as he reaches for the kitchen door and he shivers.  It’s not supposed to be this hard to just exist in his own apartment. And yet.

“Baby Gay!” Eskild cries out from his perch leaning against the counter.  “You surface from the pit of doom!”

Isak rolls his eyes.  “Stop calling me that, Eskild.” he says, the reflexive admonishment a well weathered barrier against the unwelcome tears that are pooling behind his eyelids and the quiver that is threatening to take over his lips.  Kindness, it seems, is too much right now.

He moves automatically towards the fridge, ducking his head behind the door to ensure that Eskild doesn’t see the way his face is betraying his every emotion.  Behind him, the kettle sings and Eskild bustles, his movements ostentatiously loud in the small room. Isak sighs. It seems like he has no chance to fool Eskild.  His pointed huffs and exaggerated sighs are almost deafening in their hints.

He grabs the cheese and turns to look at Eskild, leaning back against the fridge door to close it.  “Okay, spit it out,” he says, trying to keep his voice under control. “I know you want to say something.”

Eskild eyes him briefly, his eyes holding a hint of his usual teasing, but he doesn’t say anything.  Instead he pulls the cheese out of Isak’s hands and sets it on the counter beside him then drags Isak into a hug.  His hands are warm on Isak’s back and his hold is firm and comforting. The tears Isak has been keeping at bay spill over and he gasps a little as he drops his head into the crook of Eskild’s neck.

“I’m sorry, Isak.  Just remember it will get better,” Eskild says, his breath warm against Isak’s ear, and his words pierce the gloom a little.  Isak shakes his head in denial.

“He’s so down and so mean today,” Isak says into Eskild’s neck, horrified at his own admission even as he says it.  What sort of fucked up asshole is he that he can judge his boyfriend at a time like this? Having his stupid feelings hurt is so minor compared to Even and what he’s going through.  So Isak takes a breath, forces himself to push back from Eskild and plasters a smile on his face, trying to pretend he didn’t just say that. Eskild, bless him, graciously ignores the comment.  That gives Isak the courage to admit his worst fear, the thing that worries him the most. It’s times like this Isak needs Eskild and his care and his mothering, and for once he doesn’t want to hide that need behind a sarcastic front.  “I don’t … I don’t know what to do. What if I fuck up somehow?”

“We can ask his parents,” Eskild says, squeezing Isak’s shoulder reassuringly.  “They’ll know.”

Isak knows he’s right, knows Even’s parents are the best resource they have right now, apart from Even himself.  And yet he’s reluctant to go to them. Eskild seems to understand the hesitation as Isak tenses at the thought, because he smiles as he steps completely back out of the embrace.

“They’re good people, Isak.  They can help.”

Isak shakes his head.  “They don’t like me,” he says.  “I’m not Sonja.”

“Mmmmm,” Eskild agrees.  “But it’s not them you have to please, right?”

“Yeah,” Isak says, but he can’t hold Eskild’s eyes.  “But I’m not doing much for Even right now either.”

As he says it, Isak realizes this is where his despair is coming from.  In all the time they’ve spent together until now, he’s been able to understand Even.  He’s been able to read what he wants and why he wants it. Even last night, Isak had been confident, secure in knowing that he could help Even and give him what he wanted.  But now, Isak’s lost. Even was harsh and snappish, pushing Isak away when he tried to offer support or comfort. It hurt, a lot more than Isak had thought it could. Isak doesn’t have what Even wants or needs and he’s terrified he’s going to fuck it all up; worse, he’s terrified that Even is going to realize Isak’s not a good person and will leave.

“Oh Baby Gay,” Eskild says.  “I think we have to give him some time.  It’s not easy, you know?”

He turns to the counter and starts slicing the cheese and placing the slices onto bread he’s laid out on the counter.  Isak realizes with a pang of sadness that Eskild is making cheese toasts. It’s just one more small reminder of Even, and highlights a time when things were better.  The first time Even ever cooked for Isak, he’d looked at Isak’s shelf on the fridge, inspected his cupboard and teased Isak about his lack of food. Dragging the bread and cheese out and sighing that he’d have to ‘make do’ Even had poked Isak in the side and kissed his cheek as he moved towards the counter.  No amount of protesting that Isak was just about to go buy more, and that he’d cooked some perfectly good meals for Even with actual food he’d actually owned, was enough to stop Even’s good natured banter. Isak had allowed himself to laugh at the gentle roasting, let himself be wrapped up in Even’s arms and then teased him in return because he had no idea how to use spice.  Seeing Eskild here making the same food in the same space reminds Isak that Even isn’t his usual self and it feels like Isak has lost something precious in the change. He swallows, trying to keep the bitter thoughts at bay. It’s not fair to Even to think like this and it’s not helping anyone either.

“I … uh.  I think I need to go do some reading.”  He hears the quaver in his voice and winces.  “For school, you know. Homework.”

“Oh.”  There’s a wealth of meaning in that simple word, and Isak cringes as Eskild turns back to him.  “You need to eat,” Eskild adds gently, not addressing any of the things he’d meant with that one word, for which isak is grateful.  “You’ll be no help at all if you don’t.”

The pain is back in Isak’s chest again and Isak can barely hold himself together.  His body feels fragile, like it could break at any moment. So he nods. “I’m just getting my computer,” he says.  “I’ll be in the living room.”

Eyes narrowed, Eskild nods.  He lets Isak go, but Isak knows he’s not going to stop now.  His Godmother vibes are so high this morning that they can probably be felt in Bergen.  He lets himself have one small rueful laugh before sighing and quietly pushing into his bedroom.  Even is still curled in the bed, his face is drawn and his eyes are flickering under his lids. He looks tiny and fragile with his legs pulled up and his hair damp and matted on his head. Isak wants nothing more than to protect him, but he has no idea how to do that.  So he lets himself gaze for a few moments and then grabs his computer and slips back out of the room. What he has to do now he won’t be able to bring himself to if he has to see Even the whole time.

The websites Isak finds are all dry and filled with clinical observations.  It startles him to find that, while this type of site usually soothes him and makes him feel reassured through the solid weight of their facts, today it’s not enough.  Today, learning that mania can come with a side helping of hypersexuality sends a shaft of anxious pain into Isak’s heart. Today he needs the human side, the emotion.  Today, he needs to read about people with the disorder, about their lives and their loves. Today, he needs reassurance not cold facts. He reads on, however, desperate to figure out  _ something _ that might help him understand how to help Even.  

But all he finds just goes deeper into the idea of hypersexuality, and makes Isak feel ever more inadequate.   _One can suddenly find themselves attracted to people who they normally wouldn't associate with or becoming obsessed with the idea of 'forbidden sex,_ ' one site says, and Isak freezes.  He’s felt over the last few weeks that he knows Even and understands him.  But it’s true that there’s been a lot of sex. In the past, Isak has attributed that to the newness of the relationship and to the two of them being horny teenagers.  But here it is, in black and white. _Suddenly find themselves attracted to people who they normally wouldn't associate with._ _Obsessed._  What if this is the explanation?  What if this is the reason Even was so drawn to Isak so quickly.  What if it was nothing to do with a bond forming? What if an approaching episode has been behind everything?   _Obsessed._ _Attracted to people ... they normally wouldn't._ What if this is why Even has pulled back now?  What if this has all been some sort of dream for Isak but he’s just been a convenient body for Even?

Isak doesn’t want to believe it.  It’s been so good, so easy, between them.  It’s seemed like they fit together. Even has always seemed so kind and understanding, so attuned to what Isak wants and needs.  He hates that he’s even wondering this about something that’s been so beautiful for him. But Isak can’t help the worm of fear. He can’t let himself think this way, knows that this is destructive and unhelpful.  But the more he reads about it, the more worried Isak gets. It’s hard to sustain relationships, the sites say. Medication can affect their sex drive and make those with the illness pull back for weeks or even months.  So, even if this sex thing really has been just that of a new relationship, as Isak really wants to believe, it’s possible that things are going to change now anyway. Isak’s not sure what would be worse: finding out that he’s just been a symptom of hypersexuality and that Even doesn’t really want him, or finding out that Even doesn’t want him because of some combination of depression and meds.

He takes a deep, unhappy breath and pushes the computer away.  None of this is helping, and Isak feels like he needs to clear his head.  He still needs to find out more, and deep inside he knows he should listen to Eskild and ask Even’s parents.  But he can’t bring himself to do it. Imagining himself asking them if Even has ever shown signs of hypersexuality makes Isak squirm uncomfortably.  There’s no way he’s having  _ that _ conversation.  Not with them.

“Isak?”

Eskild’s voice cuts into his thoughts and Isak jumps.  His heart hammers in his chest as he turns to look at his friend.

“I have some food for you,” Eskild says, holding out a plate with one of the cheese toasts on it.  At Isak’s grimace, Eskild shakes his head. “You need to eat, Baby Gay. You won’t do anyone any favors if you don’t.”

“Eskild?” Isak asks, because he can’t keep it to himself.  “All this … I’ve been reading. It’s …” he pauses, unsure how to explain all the worries swirling in his head.

Gently pushing the plate towards Isak, Eskild nods reassuringly.  “I know you get a lot out of research, Isak, but sometimes … maybe it isn’t so good?”

“Yeah,” Isak sighs, relieved that Eskild seems to have understood at least part of what has been bothering him.  He takes a mouthful of the toast Eskild has given him before he continues. “It all says …” Isak stops again, thinks.  “Do you think all this was just an illness thing for Even?”

His heart is beating fast again, and the food goes dry in his mouth.  As much as he wants to pretend otherwise, whatever Eskild says now means a lot.  And Isak has a sick feeling that Eskild will confirm all the fears that have been circling since he started reading today.  They’re too credible, make far too much sense.

“All what?  This thing with you guys?”  Isak nods, his heart in his throat and Eskild’s face slides into a sad frown as he takes in what Isak is suggesting.  That look sends another shaft of anxiety flooding through Isak, making him feel ill. “Isak,” Eskild says, sitting beside him and wrapping his arm around Isak’s shoulder.  “I don’t know much about his illness, I won’t lie. But I definitely think that whatever it is you have, it’s real.” He smiles. “What are you reading that made you think otherwise?”

Isak slumps in relief, his body shaking as he takes in what Eskild has said.  “It says … it says people can … uh … want sex a lot and they just go for anyone, people who they usually wouldn’t.”

“Hmmmm,” Eskild pulls Isak in tighter.  “That’s not what I’ve seen, Isak. The way Even looks at you … I don’t see that from someone who only wants sex.”

“Maybe,” Isak says, wanting to believe but also unwilling to allow his hopes to get up.  His old fears are resurfacing, the worries that always come in when he thinks about himself in a relationship.  The things that happened last year, those still sit on Isak’s heart and they don’t let him settle, they don’t allow him to take things like this at face value.

“Maybe?” Eskild’s voice is warm in the gloom surrounding Isak.  “Baby Gay, I have seen many many men who just wanted sex. And Even doesn’t act with you like they act.”

Isak sucks in a breath, shaky and weak, about to ask Eskild for more clarification, but a sudden shrill of the buzzer shatters the moment and Isak pulls back.  Eskild’s face swiftly changes from concern to welcome and he nods at Isak as he stands.

“Probably his parents, then,” he says.

Isak nods.  He takes another breath and tries to steady his shaky hands and school his face into something that looks normal and responsible.  It’s been abundantly clear recently that Even’s parents don’t approve of their relationship. So Isak can’t allow them to see him floundering.  Whatever he’s feeling inside, Isak has to make these people see him as capable and good for Even. By the time Eskild has opened the door and let them in again, Isak is in control of his face.  He manages a smile as he sees their worried faces.

“How is he?” Even’s mother asks; it’s the first thing she’s said and for once Isak feels a kinship with her.  To them, Even is everything, and he understands this. He’s Isak’s everything as well.

“He’s sleeping,” Isak says.  “He was a bit low this morning when he woke, but he’s settled for now.”

Even’s mother’s face twists and she nods.  “I had hoped it wouldn’t come this soon,” she says, turning to her husband, who swallows as his eyes show his worries.  “That means he’s been off for a while.” She shakes herself a little. “No matter, we can’t fix that now. But we should take him home.”

Isak’s heart plummets.  As hard as this has been, and as much as he’s unsure about what’s happening with Even, Isak doesn’t want him to go.  He’s not sure what to say to convince these people, though. So he doesn’t move to stop them when they make their way towards his bedroom.

Even’s still curled up in the middle of the bed, his breath shallow and his limbs twitching.  His hair is still plastered to his head and Isak longs to push it back, to hold him. He casts a surreptitious glance at Even’s parents as they enter.  Their eyes reflect the same pain he’s feeling and his heart eases a little. No matter how different their ideas of what’s right for Even, Isak feels a kinship with them.  It makes this moment a little easier.

“We can’t move him,” Even’s father says.  He takes his wife’s hand and she looks up at him.  “You know it’s not good when he’s like this. He has to stay here, for now.”

She sighs and nods.  She walks over to the bed and sinks down next to Even, pushes his hair back off his face and leans down to kiss his forehead.  “Stay well, baby,” she mutters. He shifts a little against her hand and his lips lift a tiny bit. It’s enough for her and she smiles.  

Eskild shuffles them out into the living room again, but Isak chooses to stay.  He’s tired again. The reading he’s been doing has confused and alarmed him, making his restless mind even worse.  But his body demands that he slip into bed again, so he does, wrapping himself up next to Even and hoping that some part of his feelings can make it through whatever fog Even is in right now and give him some comfort.

  
  


The next day or so passes in a blur of fear and anxiety, exhaustion and stress.  By Monday morning they have all established an uneasy routine. Eskild cooks periodically and brings it through to Isak who’s usually sitting with Even, his laptop on his knee and his lips chewed between his teeth.  Even sleeps most of the time and snarls the rest. Or if he isn’t snarling, he’s filled with self-disgust which always shatters Isak’s heart. He’ll eat when forced to, choking down a few bites when he’s able to, and letting food go cold on the nightstand when he isn’t.  Isak isn’t much better, but Eskild insists on sitting over him at least once a day to ensure that he’s at least eating one full meal each day. 

Isak, for his part, is buried up to his eyes in blogs and websites written by people who have Bipolar disorder.  Unlike the clinical, factual sites, these ones ease Isak’s heart a little. They talk about the struggles and the worries.  They talk about what it’s like to live with this illness. They give a real insight into what it’s like from people who genuinely know.  Best of all, they all say that no-one is the same and that each person is his or her own individual. So Isak lets himself listen to Eskild and lets himself hope that Even really has been telling the truth during their relationship.  Because it had all felt so sincere, and Isak can’t believe it wasn’t real.

It helps that whenever Isak slides into the bed, Even snuggles closer.  That despite the things he sometimes says when he’s at his lowest, Even still seems to want to be near Isak.  His head always ends up on Isak’s hip, or pressed back into his thigh. For his part, Isak’s fingers always comb through the damp hair that rings Even’s forehead, enjoying the soft rumblings Even makes when he’s conscious enough to notice.  

Even’s parents return at the same time the second day, and this time he is awake.

“Halla, baby,” his mother says, drawing him in for a gentle hug.  “How are you?” Even clutches her to him and lets his head sink down onto her shoulder.  Isak swallows and looks away. He can’t bear the look on Even’s face. It’s so lost and alone, even while he’s caught up in his mother’s arms.  He wonders how often Even carries that look when he’s with Isak too.

“I’m okay, Mamma,” Even says.  She nods, like she understands.  Isak gets it, too. It’s not  _ I’m great. _  It’s not a suggestion that there’s nothing wrong or that Even’s going to leap out of bed and go about his life.  But it’s a reminder that he’s still here, that he’s making it through even though it’s hard.

“You’ll come home, Even?” his father asks from his position hovering in the doorway, but Even shakes his head.  His eyes drift towards Isak where he’s sitting perched on the other side of the bed to Even’s mother.

“No.  I want … I need, to stay here.”

His mother sighs, heavily, as she lets him go.  “Even. You know it’s better …”

He falls back into the bed and closes his eyes.  Even from this angle, Isak can see the pained expression on his pale face.  He shakes his head, the motion slow and weary.

“No,” he says.  His voice is weak but there’s a steel in there and his mother purses her lips as she hears it too.  She looks over at Isak, and her mouth twists even more.

“I still don’t like it,” she says as she looks at him.

Isak can’t bring himself to answer her, so he just nods.  It’s the best he can do when he feels so ill at ease with these people.  In response, she pats Even’s hand again. She leans down to kiss his head, and frowns as he turns his face away and pulls his legs up to his chest again.  Isak’s breath catches in his throat as he watches Even’s face shut down into its now-usual blankness. It hurts seeing this happening. Every time it seems like Even is getting a little better, this happens.  He shuts down and turns away from everyone.

His parents move through into the living room where his father unpacks a bag they’ve brought with them.  Inside is food, measured out into small containers, clearly designed to be single serve portions.

“Here,” Even’s father says as he hands them to Eskild.  “For Even. It’s a few of the things he likes best.”

“Oh.”  Isak’s voice feels rusty from disuse and he shrugs uncomfortably as he picks up a small container and turns it over in his hands.  “Thank … thank you. You didn’t have to.”

“Mmmm,” his mother agrees.  “We wanted to feel of some use to him.  Now that … well.”

Her unhappiness that Even is staying here and not returning home with them is bleeding into her tone and Isak feels another of those bursts of kinship with her.  As much as she doesn’t like Even being with Isak, and as much as that hurts, it’s clear how much she loves Even and how powerless she feels now he’s in this state.  She turns to gather her things, and Isak impulsively steps forward. 

“Um … is it like this usually?” he asks hesitantly.  “It seemed like he was getting better, but now …”

Even’s mother looks him over and sighs.  She’s clearly debating whether to say anything, or what she should say if she speaks, when Even’s father cuts in.  “It’s never easy, Isak. He doesn’t get better all in one go. It takes time.” He pats Isak’s shoulder. “It’s time and patience.”

“Okay,” Isak says.  He takes a breath and makes himself meet their eyes.  “Okay. I’ll … uh. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  
  


When Monday arrives, Isak finds himself at school and already missing the new routine they’ve developed.  He misses Even’s nearness and the feeling of his hair as he ran it through his fingers. It’s harder than he’d expected to put one foot in front of the other and to focus when he’s at school.  He’s slumped in a seat in the cafeteria at lunch, listlessly scrolling through his phone when the boys all arrive in one whirl of energy and noise.

“Isak, bro.  You’ve been missing out all weekend,” Magnus says as they throw themselves into the seats around him.  “The party we were at was seriously awesome. Vilde was there, and we almost hooked up.”

“That’s chill,” Isak says.

All three of them stop moving and look at him in consternation.  “That’s chill?” Mahdi asks eventually when the silence drags and even Isak is almost pushed out of his apathy.  “What’s the matter with you? There’s no shit talking for Magnus? Didn’t you hear him bragging about hooking with Vilde, which is next to impossible?”

“I’m not always an asshole!” Isak says, aggrieved that this is how they see him.  That he’s been pegged as the dick who’s always shitty to his friends.

“Yeah, okay, whatever you say,” Jonas says and that really stings.  If his best friend thinks this of him, then maybe Isak really has been a shitty asshole friend for too long.  He’s taken right back to the time before Even, when he was isolated and alone and shitty at the world. It seems like, without Even, Isak’s right back in the same place.  To his horror, Isak finds his eyes filling with tears and he has to look away.

“Shit,” he hears Mahdi say.  “He’s really not himself.”

“Where’s Even?” Magnus adds.  “We need him here to make Isak stop being a weird-ass polite stranger.”

Isak takes a deep breath.  “He’s … uh. He’s not well, right now.”

“Ohhhhhh,” Magnus says now, punching Isak on the shoulder.  “I get it. You’re not getting any dick, so you’re grumpy again.”

Rolling his eyes, impatient and irritated, Isak stands up.  “I need to … to go and call Eskild. See how Even’s doing.” He forces a grin onto his face, but it feels stiff and awkward and he’s sure it’s not having the desired effect when he catches sight of his friends’ faces.  “I’ll see you guys around?”

They all chorus agreement, though Jonas is casting some concerned looks in his direction.  Isak forces his body into its usual pattern. It bothers him that they were able to see through him so easily today.  He needs to be more careful, both to protect Even’s secret and to prevent anyone from giving him sympathy. Isak knows sympathy would crack his already fragile facade.  All he wants is to be home with Even, but he’s stuck here at school where all his thoughts are stuck in a worried whirl and where one wrong look or comment is going to shatter his hard-fought calm.

He leans against the wall outside the cafeteria, pulls out his phone and sends a quick text to Eskild.  Because as much as this was an excuse, Isak is worried about Even and he does want the reassurance Eskild can give him.

_ Hey.  How’s Even? _

_ I’m fine, thank you Baby Gay.   _

Isak rolls his eyes, impatient at Eskild’s sly barb.  He’s about to send a complaint in return when his phone lights up again.

_ Even is sleeping.  The way he was the last time you asked.   _

_ Did he eat? _

_ Not yet, but I’m heating one of his meals now _

_ Okay.  Let me know _

_ Always, Baby Gay.  I’m here for you. _

The bell goes, sharp and harsh in his ear, and Isak reluctantly pushes off the wall and makes his way to his next class.  He spends the rest of the day counting down the minutes until he can next see Even, and doesn’t relax until he’s able to curl up in his bed at home with Even again.  As Eskild had said, Even is much the same as he’s been the last few days, but sitting next to him and having his warmth plastered to his side makes Isak feel a peace that has been missing all day.  It feels disrespectful somehow to feel this way when Even is so down, to soak so much comfort out of his unknowing body, and yet being with Even is better for Isak than not being with Even. He’s usually asleep, but in his sleep he curls into Isak and his body tells a truth his words sometimes hide when he’s awake.

Even wakes slowly that evening.  He moves his head restlessly against Isak’s fingers which are rubbing their usual pattern along his forehead.  Isak stills, unsure what’s going to happen. Unsure whether Even is going to be snarly or self-loathing. He braces himself for whichever comes.  They’re both equally heartbreaking, but in different ways. Snappish Beast Even comes out when Even’s angry at his situation, and Isak knows how much Even hates his beastly side, so he knows how bad it’s likely to make Even feel in the aftermath.  But even that is easier than the Even who hates himself and doesn’t think he deserves anything good. Isak wants to wrap that Even up and protect him from the world and from himself. The knowledge that he can’t sits heavy in Isak’s chest.

“Isak,” Even says, and his voice is so soft Isak can barely hear it.  

“I’m here,” Isak says.  As he watches, Even’s face relaxes and he smiles.  It’s only been a few days since Isak last saw that smile, but it feels like much longer.  A lump rises in his throat and he smiles back.

“Thank you,” Even says.  “It’s so much, what you do.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Isak says.  He lets himself bend down and brush his lips over Even’s flushed cheek.  “Baby.” He tries the word out on his tongue, tests it out to see how it feels again.  It feels good to say it. So he slides down in the bed, lets his arms gather Even into a cuddle.  Then he whispers the word again against Even’s hair. “Baby.”

Even moves so he can see Isak, shifting in his arms so that their faces are close.  Their foreheads are pressed together and their lips are so close that Isak could kiss him if he wasn’t so uncertain how Even would take it.

“I’m tired,” Even says, but there’s no heat in his words this time.  There’s no Beast biting at whoever it thinks is hurting Even. There’s no Depression, convincing Even he’s unloved and unloveable.  There’s just Even, quiet and contemplative, allowing himself to speak a truth.

“I know,” Isak says, “it’s okay.”  

He feels the outpouring of Even’s breath against his lips as he sighs in relief at Isak’s words.  Isak feels his body relaxing back against his own, and he pulls him in closer. Even sinks into the embrace and lets his head fall onto Isak’s shoulder, and he lets out a contented rumble.  It’s the first time Even has let Isak hold him like this, when he’s aware of what he’s doing anyway. It feels like a blessing Isak doesn’t deserve, but after the day he’s had at school, it’s one he needs and he’s grateful.  It’s a sign, he thinks, that they can weather this storm. That somewhere behind the depression and the Beast, Even is still there and is still himself. It tells Isak that he should carry on, that his being here is worth something after all.

  
  


The days pass.  The routine entrenches itself with a few modifications.  Isak eats more, and the time spent at school isn’t quite so difficult.  He still finds it hard to care about the scholarships or his work, but Isak feels less like he’s an alien sitting outside everything when he’s with his friends.  They fall back into a comfortable place. Magnus still says stupid shit too often, but Isak’s apathy is gone and he feels more able to roast him when it’s required.  The boys stop looking at him like he’s some sort of explosive time bomb.

The biggest problem is sleep.  Spending so many hours apart from Even is hard, made harder by the fact that usually when Isak is at home Even is sleeping.  He has periods of wakefulness, but they come at odd moments. Moments when Isak should be sleeping himself to be ready for school the next day.  But as the only times when Even is willing to engage with him, Isak doesn’t want to waste them being unconscious. So he stays awake when Even does, pressing kisses to his forehead, making him food, changing the bed when it’s needed.  He sleepwalks through the days when it’s a particularly long night, but he wouldn’t give it up for anything. He’s almost content. It’s becoming clearer that Even does actually need him and so Isak lets his earlier fears rest. The things Even’s parents insinuate when they visit become less important and Isak lets himself remember the way things were with Even before, and stops his mind from dwelling on all the unpleasant what ifs.

So it’s something of a shock when he takes a plate out of the room one afternoon when Even’s fallen asleep again and Eskild grabs his arm.

“Eskild?  What the fuck?”

“Baby Gay, I’m worried about you …”

Isak squints at Eskild in confusion.  What is there to worry about? Things are going fine.  Even is … if not better, then stable and Isak is happy enough with how his life is going.  

“I’m fine, though.”

“Isak.”  Eskild’s voice is filled with care but even more than that, the use of his name penetrates Isak’s mind and he grimaces.  Must be serious then. He sighs, pulls his arm out of Eskild’s grip and makes his way to the kitchen. There are a few dishes stacked neatly waiting to be washed and Isak carefully sets Even’s down with the others then prepares to wash them.  The warm water splashing into the sink is mesmerizing and Isak finds himself staring at it for a few seconds.

“You’re not yourself, Isak.  Look at you; you tuned out there for a moment.”

“I … uh.  It’s nothing.  I’m just tired,” Isak says.  He looks behind him to where Eskild is lounging in the door frame with his arms crossed and a frown on his face.

“Mmmm,” Eskild agrees.  “That’s the problem. You’re not sleeping.  I hear it when you’re restless at night.”

Isak shrugs.  “It’s the only time I can see Even,” he says.

Eskild nods as Isak turns back to his dishes.  “I understand that, Baby Gay. But it’s not good for you.”  When Isak opens his mouth to protest, Eskild adds, “it’s not good for Even either,” and Isak pauses, his hands in the soapy water and his mind whirling.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“Even needs you, and it’s good that you’re being there for him.  But …” and here Eskild moves so he can lean on the counter next to Isak and see his face, “if you’re so tired you can’t function, you can’t be there for him.”

“I know,” Isak admits, glancing sideways at Eskild and letting his fears show on his face.  “But I don’t want to lose time with him. Not when …”

“You need to look after yourself too, Isak,” Eskild says, his voice gentle and his eyes kind.  But it cuts into Isak all the same. “I’ll leave you now, but please just think about it.”

Isak nods, his mind only half on the task he’s doing.  Maybe Eskild is right. Which means maybe Even’s parents are right.  Maybe Even would be better off with someone who actually knows how to deal with all this.  The very thought makes his insides freeze and Isak shakes it off. He’s just going to have to do better because he can’t lose this.  

So Isak tries to do better.  He makes a conscious effort to set his alarm and to go to bed when it goes off.  He’s sitting with Even curled into his side and his laptop open with several tabs about Bipolar open.  He knows Eskild would scold him if he knew, but the thirst to know more is still there and Even is in no state to talk about it.  Not yet anyway.

The alarm screams; it’s the most obnoxious sound Isak could find and he’s placed his phone on the dresser on the other side of his room.  But he ignores it because Even has stirred and he’s looking up at Isak with his huge blue eyes and Isak is helpless against them.

“That’s loud,” Even says, and Isak can feel the small smile curving his lips.

“It is,” he agrees.  “It’s my bedtime now.”

Even turns so he’s staring up at the ceiling.  “S’time?” he asks, and Isak forces himself out of bed and over to the phone.

“23,” he says, grimacing at the bright light.

He knows he should go to bed, knows he promised Eskild he’d try but when Even shows interest in food, Isak can’t bring himself to deny him.  So he cooks a toastie, boils a kettle and brings both food and tea back to Even. It means that by the time he does finally settle into bed, next to an Even who is still staring at the ceiling, it’s almost 1am.  He’s only going to get a few hours of sleep, Isak knows, but he still can’t bring himself to care.

  
  


More days pass in much the same way.  The routine they’ve created is just the way life is, now, and even with the lack of sleep, Isak still feels a certain peace as his days take on a new sense of familiarity.  Mamma sends texts every now and then, each one managing to hit Isak squarely where it hurts.  _ Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God? You are not your own, for you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body. _  Isak grimaces, silently wishing he could be far from here with a mother who doesn’t judge him from afar for his relationship.  In his darkest days, Isak thinks she may have figured out what was going on when he last visited her. Her messages since then have all been along the lines of keeping your body pure, staying strong in your faith and not giving in to temptations.  That he is suffering through enforced temple-keeping of his body these days just makes it worse. 

It’s not that Isak resents Even, or wishes he wasn’t around, but he definitely misses the kissing and the cuddling and the sex. As hard as it was to stay focused when his body spent all its time yearning for Even’s, it’s far far harder now.  There are times when Even’s lying snuggled next to him, his face smushed against Isak’s thigh and his leg snugged over Isak’s, and Isak’s dick reacts. Knowing it’s just a physiological impulse doesn’t help, when it’s throbbing and it’s been so long since Isak and Even have been in a position to enjoy taking advantage of boners when they appear.  His dick knows what it’s missing, Isak knows, and it’s just reacting to Even’s proximity in a predictable way. It’s difficult not doing anything about it, but Isak almost never does, because inevitably this happens when Even needs his presence and Isak isn’t enough of an asshole to jostle Even while he’s feeling this low. There’s something really unfeeling, to Isak, in getting himself off while his boyfriend is right there and so vulnerable.  It’s just … this whole thing sucks. A lot. And his mother reminding him what he’s missing with her seemingly-pointed texts just makes things even harder.

The situation isn’t made any easier with the frequent appearances of Even’s parents.  They always time their visits for when Isak is just home from school. He wishes they would come earlier, when Eskild or Linn is there to talk to them, rather than Isak.  He knows that’s selfish, knows they want to see him because he’s the puzzle, the enigma. He’s the thing that’s keeping Even here and so he’s the thing they need to figure out.  That doesn’t make it any easier when they start trying to convince Isak to let Even go home with them. Invariably that conversation comes, and it’s always the same. They start with pleasantries, wanting to know how things are going, commiserating on how hard it must be to do his homework and live his life with an apathetic boy in his bed.  Then they remind him how little he knows how to do for Even. Their hints are now at a point where Isak tenses when he hears the buzzer, and Eskild has taken to hovering in the background because he sees just how anxious it makes Isak to have these conversations.

This one starts pleasantly enough, even though today it’s only Even’s mother here and she’s always worse without his father to temper her reactions.  It’s part of being a Beast, Isak thinks. She reminds him of his own mother, the way she was just after his father left. It’s disorientating, imagining what it might have been like if his own family had stuck together.

“I brought some more food,” she says cheerfully after she enters and takes off her coat.  She puts a large bag filled with more small containers in the kitchen. “It seemed like you were a bit low last time we were here,” she adds when she emerges again.

“You don’t have to,” Eskild says.  “We have plenty for Even, and he doesn’t really eat much.”

Her mouth purses, sharp and bitter, as she looks over at Isak.  He’s startled, unsure what that look is for, but there’s resentment in it.  And a lot of bitterness. He swallows, looks away.

“We don’t mind,” she says now, her voice light and airy.  But there’s tension sitting behind the breeziness, vivid in the tautness of her neck and the falsely high pitch of the voice, and Isak grimaces.  “I keep forgetting he’s not there anymore and go buying too much anyway. It’d just go to waste if …” she trails off, presumably not wanting to complete the sentence and Isak sighs.

She moves into Isak’s room to see Even, but Isak doesn’t follow.  He’s become sick of the way she casts looks around as if weighing up everything he has lying around.  He winces when he remembers that he discarded his sleep clothes on the floor this morning and hasn’t had a chance to pick them up.  He knows she’s here for Even, and that she loves him and wants the best for him. But it’s not easy living with her constant judgement, where Isak knows he doesn’t measure up and nothing he can do will change that.  So he stays away, in one small act of rebellion against her ideas.

She emerges from the room with a sad face and wet eyes, and Eskild flips the kettle on.  Isak wants to stop him, because Even’s parents always stay longer when a hot drink is offered, but Eskild can’t help himself.  His Godmother instinct insists on him giving hospitality and he does it without thinking, despite agreeing with Isak that the less time he has to spend in this company, the better.

So they sit, in uncomfortable silence, as Eskild makes the drinks and passes them out to each of them.  Isak’s perched on the couch nearest to the bedroom, wishing he could head there and be with Even. It’s been too long since he was able to let himself relax and he desperately wants the feeling of Even’s body wrapped up next to his.

Eskild does his best to engage them in small talk, but it’s stilted and sporadic.  Isak can’t bring himself to talk to them today. He’s so exhausted from his third consecutive night of no sleep that he can’t dredge up the energy to find something to say to Even’s mother.  Eventually, she shifts on her seat and the lines of her body become more rigid. She sits forward and leans her elbows on her knees, her hands clasped between them. It’s a position that’s designed to be intimidating, and Isak can’t help but react, shrinking in on himself as she sits so aggressively.

“We have to talk about Even,” she says.  Isak tenses; this is already much more intense than her previous attempts at discussing Even, and it unsettles Isak.  He sits as far back on his own couch as he can and pulls his legs up to his chest.

“What about him?” He can hear the aggression in his own voice and cringes.  It’s not good to be reacting this way to the things she’s saying, never good to respond to a Beast’s aggression with more aggression, but Isak is too tired to care.  He’s too tired to moderate his voice and his words to appease her, and he knows instinctively this isn’t going to be a good combination.

“You have to understand, Isak,” Even’s mother says, “this isn’t good for either of you.”

“It’s fine,” Isak says.  It’s not even new, the thing she’s saying, and that irritates him.  She’s not the one who sits in Isak’s body; she doesn’t get to say what’s good for him.

“It’s not though,” she says, and there’s anger in that voice now, sitting around the edges.  She’s clearly not used to being resisted. “You look terrible. I bet you haven’t been sleeping.”

“It’s not that bad,” Isak mumbles, and she laughs.  It seems almost cruel, that laugh, like she’s scored a point on Isak.  The look she gives him says she can tell he’s lying. It’s hard for him to suppress the yawn her words conjure up, and he has to turn away.

“And it’s not like you’ve been great for him, either,” she adds, pressing her advantage.  “He’s so obsessed it’s unhealthy.”

That stings.  A lot.  _ Obsessed. _  The word that has been haunting Isak for days now.  Unfortunately, his exhaustion is preventing Isak from being able to hide his real feelings, so he knows there’s a catch in his voice when he speaks.  He knows she can see the way his mouth has dropped into an unhappy frown. It hurts to hear something like that said out loud, and even though Isak tries to push it down, he can’t stop his emotion from seeping into his words.

“It’s not.  He settles when I’m here,” Isak says, trying to seem as confident and calm as he wants her to believe he is.  “It’s good.”

Even’s mother grunts, and the look she gives him is disbelieving.  Eskild stirs anxiously next to Isak on the couch. It’s clear that he wants to say something, but he’s trying not to interfere.  Isak squeezes his hand in thankfulness.

“All this … this stuff.  This episode, it’s …” Even’s mother sighs, and her voice when she continues is softer, kinder.   “Look, Isak. I don’t mean to say you’ve done any of this on purpose.” That’s almost worse; when she’s angry Isak can fight back, but when she’s kind … well, it’s obvious she’s not  _ trying _ to be nasty.  It’s obvious that the cruel barbs and stinging stabs are all born out of her love of and fear for her son.  She doesn’t mean it to be personal for Isak … but it feels like it is. “But you must see,” she adds. “He stopped seeing Sonja because of you.  He lost control because of that. It’s …”

To his horror, Isak can feel tears welling up in his eyes.  This is new, from her, but it’s all the stuff Isak has been telling himself.  All the research, all the websites about bipolar, they’ve all fed these anxieties.  And here is Even’s mother, putting voice to the fears that have swarmed in the dark of night ever since Even arrived here.  It stings, and Isak has to look away, can’t formulate any response to her words. Not when they’re words he often says to himself.  Not when the fear keeps swirling, the worry that Even will be better off without Isak. This has always been one of the things keeping Isak up at night, the knowledge that if Even knew everything about Isak he’d be uninterested in sticking around.  That Isak has nothing to offer him.

“That’s enough.”  Eskild is on his feet now and moving towards her.  His voice is angry, protective of Isak. “You don’t come into my house and talk to my flatmates like that.”

“I’m just trying to help him see --”

“No,” Eskild says, and his voice is firm, commanding.  “You’re upsetting him when he doesn’t need to be.” He waves his hand in Isak’s direction, where he’s desperately trying to swallow the tears back down, desperately trying to regain his composure.  “This, all of this … it’s not your decision.”

“Eskild,” Isak says now.  “It’s okay. She’s right.”

As much as he wishes she was wrong, it’s  _ not _ as if this is healthy.  Eskild himself has already voiced his worries about Isak, so it’s not like this should come as a surprise to him.

“Thank you, Isak,” his mother says, and there’s triumph in her voice.  “I’ll leave him here for now, but you must see he will be better at home with us.”

“No, thank you,” Eskild says now.  “We’ll talk about this with Even when  _ he _ wants to.  It’s up to him.”

She’s on her feet now, too, glaring at both of them.  “Well, I can see you’re incapable of reason at the moment,” she says.  

She takes her cup through to the kitchen and and Isak can hear the careful clink as she places it on the counter.  When she returns, she gathers her coat in silence, puts it on, then turns to Isak on the couch.

“I hope you see reason soon,” she says.  “If you really care about him and what’s best for him, you’ll let him come home.”

“Thank you for coming,” Eskild says pointedly.  “Even will decide what he wants to do when he’s ready.”

It doesn’t matter, Isak thinks tiredly.  Even’s mother is right, and he should stop being so selfish.  If Even would rather be at his home, or if he’d be better off there, then Isak should let him go.  Given all the things Isak is still keeping from Even, and the inevitable moment when he’ll find them all out and not want anything to do with Isak anymore, it’s probably best if Even wants to leave.  Best for Even in the long run, even if his loss will break something in Isak.

He tries to broach it with Even one evening, when for once Even is awake when Isak is still feeling relatively refreshed.  They’re lying in bed, Isak’s computer propped on their chests, and a terrible cheesy romance that Even vaguely mentioned wanting to see on the screen.  Isak’s arm is tucked behind Even’s head, and Even has snuggled his head into the crook of Isak’s neck. It’s not all that comfortable, and Isak’s arm went dead several minutes ago, but Isak would rather cut off his leg than admit that to Even.  It’s far too seldom that Even allows this sort of thing to happen. As the credits roll, Even turns over so he can see Isak, and he smiles. The computer slips sideways, but it’s still near enough that it lights the room with a soft glow. Isak takes in Even’s face.  It’s still pale, his hair is still matted and his eyes still look sunken with dark rings smudging around them. But he looks almost happy, or peaceful anyway, and Isak can’t help the smile that is pulled onto his own lips at the sight.

“Hey,” he says.  “You okay?”

Even’s eyes flick up to the ceiling and his mouth draws downwards into a slight frown before he looks back at Isak and nods.  “I’m … okay, yeah,” he says.

Isak understands that Even means he’s  _ okay. _  He’s not at his lowest (and thank all the world for that one) but he’s also not happy.  Not yet. 

“I’m glad,” Isak says.  “I hope …” he pauses, trying to figure out what to say to explain his meaning properly.  “I hope you can feel okay more often.” Even’s soft intake of breath makes Isak look at him, carefully, but he still looks okay.  Looks like he’s processing what Isak’s trying to say rather than feeling stress or sadness or any of the many other emotions that have been his constant companion these last few days.  Isak whispers, “I hope you can feel happy one day soon.”

“Me too,” Even whispers back, almost like it’s a confession, like he shouldn’t admit to it.  Isak squeezes his shoulder, letting him know without words that he’s been heard, and that Isak won’t judge him for that desire.  “It’s not … it doesn’t go all in one direction,” Even adds. “Tomorrow I’ll probably be shit again.”

Isak nods, presses his lips to Even’s forehead, and smiles as he pulls back to see Even’s eyes closed in thankful acceptance.  “I know, baby,” Isak says. “I just hope it’s more good than bad for you soon.”

“Thank you,” Even says quietly, opening his eyes so Isak can see the sincerity in them. 

“If … if you want to go home,” Isak says, and is horrified to hear his voice shaking as he says it, “you can.  I mean …”

He stops abruptly as Even pulls back and searches his face anxiously.  “You want me to leave?”

“No!” Isak says, the very idea sending cascades of fear rioting down through his body.  “I just don’t want you to feel obligated to stay here.”

Even shakes his head.  “No obligation,” he says.  “I want to be here, I want you.”  He searches Isak’s face again, waiting to see something only he knows.  “Unless you don’t want me.”

“Baby,” Isak says, and lets it all shine through in his eyes and his voice, tries to impress on Even how serious he is about this, hopes this is what Even’s looking for.  “I always want you.  _ Always.” _

Impulsively, he leans forward and kisses Even, before pulling back almost immediately because he’s so fearful of crossing some unknown boundary.  Even’s hand has been lying against Isak’s chest, and now it curls so it’s grasping his t-shirt, holding Isak in place. He presses forward and kisses Isak back, and the warmth from that one gesture makes Isak’s chest burst.  It’s been so long, days and days, since Isak’s felt like he could share any of this sort of intimacy. It’s almost painful, the way his heart beats at the touch of Even’s lips.

_ I think I love you, _ he thinks, looking into Even’s eyes as they slide shut again.  He doesn’t say it though, just lets his free arm caress Even’s hair as he murmurs, “sleep if you need to,” against his forehead.  He moves as quietly and gently as he can to get the computer on the floor before settling back down against Even and letting himself fall asleep early for the first time in a long while.

  
  


Sana slides into her seat next to Isak at school.  He glances sideways and groans internally as he takes in her expression.  Her eyes are fixed on him and she has her head cocked in a considering way.  Something in the angle she’s holding her head at suggests she’s really annoyed with Isak.

“What?” he snaps, the tiredness that still accompanies him everywhere making him grumpy enough to forget to be polite.  Her intense scrutiny is discomforting, and Isak would rather be napping than dealing with this right now.

“I’m trying to work out if you’re really this stupid, or if it’s deliberate sabotage,” Sana says.  There’s a savagery in her voice that Isak winces away from.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Isak says, anxiously going over everything that’s happened at school for the last week to try to figure out what she’s talking about.

“The project, Isak.  Our homework.” This time the frustration is very clear in her voice and her lips have become pinched, as if she can’t believe he’s really _ this _ stupid.

“Oh.  Shit.”  Isak feels the blood draining from his face as he remembers.  It was the first day back at school after Even had turned up so unexpectedly that they’d been given an assignment to do that’s due … “fuck, it’s for tomorrow?”

“It is,” Sana says, thumping her books down on the table and glaring at him.  “If you’d bothered to check your phone any time over the last three days you might have remembered sooner.”

Isak groans and lets his head fall onto the desk in front of him.  He’s so tired that the idea of doing homework late into the night doesn’t appeal.  His body is already craving sleep, a feeling that Isak has been missing for too long now.  But it’s not just him who’s affected, so he’s just going to have to do it, even if it takes all night and robs him of more sleep.  

Isak glances sideways again, and flinches at what he sees.  Sana’s focused on the books in front of her, with her lips pulled into a thin line and she’s deliberately not looking at Isak.  Occasionally she darts a sharp glare out the side of her eyes, usually accompanied by a short muttered commentary on the failings of Isak’s character.  Sana’s totally within her rights to be angry at him right now, but the treatment she’s giving him becomes uncomfortable as the lesson begins. They usually work effectively together, fond banter and retorts about their respective abilities punctuating their work.  Today, however, she’s silent as they work and it’s so unnatural it sends anxiety creeping up Isak’s back.

“I’m sorry,” Isak whispers halfway through, when it becomes unbearable trying to work with the ostentatious flipping of pages and pointed not-looking going on beside him.  “I’ll fix it, I promise.” He sighs, keeps one eye on the teacher who doesn’t like it when they talk out of turn in class, makes sure she’s otherwise occupied, then turns to Sana.  “Even’s not been well, and I’m not sleeping. I’m sorry I forgot but there’s other stuff on my mind.” 

Sana rolls her eyes, but there’s a softening of her mouth.  “Just get your half done,” she hisses back. “And get more sleep.  Someone being sick isn’t any reason to make yourself sick too! And you look like shit.”

Before Isak can respond, the teacher clears her throat and calls their attention back to the front of the room.  He sighs, wishes it was his secret to tell. Because of course this isn’t like a little cold; Even needs a lot more from his supporters than that.  But Isak can’t tell Sana any more than he already did. If she doesn’t know, it’s not for him to let on to her.

So he spends that evening frantically writing down everything he can find in his notes and online for the project.  It’s almost 2 when he manages to put it all away and slide into bed. He’s exhausted, but his body refuses to cooperate.  Even’s too hot next to him, his body radiating sticky heat as he plasters himself to Isak’s body, and making sleep near impossible.  So Isak lies on his back, staring at the roof and hoping he manages to get even a couple of hours sleep before he has to get up for school.

He doesn’t.  Just dozes a little at times, startling awake every time he drops off in fear that he’s left something crucial out of the project and that Sana will end up with a terrible grade because of his lack of focus.  By the time he’s dragged himself to school, it’s late and he’s missed half of his first lesson anyway. So he slumps down on the floor outside his second classroom, and tries not to fall asleep where he’s sitting.  Idly, he opens the computer and reads over his work, trying to make sure he hasn’t said anything really stupid in his sleep-deprived state. His eyes slide around the screen, unable to focus effectively, and more than once Isak jerks into alertness with his heart pounding.

The bell rings, piercing his stupor and Isak shakes himself.  He’s stiff and uncomfortable, and his laptop has slid sideways off his knees, which means he probably did drop off.  Thankfully, this is Biology, and if he’s this bad after this lesson, he can just say fuck it and go home. He just has to make it through this one, make sure he hands his work in and that Sana doesn’t get penalized.

He’s leaning on his desk, head pillowed on his arms, and his brain in a decided state of mush.  Like yesterday, Sana slips into her seat beside him. Unlike yesterday, she’s actually smiling, and she looks nervous.  Worried that her precious project didn’t get completed, Isak guesses.

“Don’t worry, I got it done,” Isak says, trying to alleviate her fears a little.  He doesn’t even lift his head off the desk to look at her, just rolls his head a little to take in as much of her as he can.

“Thanks,” she says, looking, if possible, even more nervous now than she did earlier.  Which makes no fucking sense considering Isak actually did do what he’d said he would and both their asses are saved.  “You didn’t stay up all night or anything, did you?” There’s a plea in that voice, but Isak’s too tired to figure out what it all means.

“Of course I did,” he says.  “How else was I going to get it done?”

Sana’s face falls, but Isak doesn’t have time to work out why because the teacher calls their attention to the start of the lesson, and they have to hand in the work they’ve done.  Sana shoots him a sad, contrite look as she adds his work into her document and emails it to the teacher. The rest of the lesson drags. Isak can’t focus; his attention is lagging and all he wants to do is crawl under the desk and sleep for a few hours.  Sana, apparently, has his back, though, because every time the teacher turns her attention their way, she pokes Isak enough so that he looks like he knows what’s happening, then she breezily answers any questions that come in their direction.

At the end of the lesson, as the other students file out, Isak listlessly puts his books and computer into his bag.  He’s no use to anyone, so he’s definitely going home after this. The thought of his bed almost makes him moan in relief, and all he has to do to enjoy it is to survive the walk to the tram stop and try not to sleep on the trip home again.

“Hey, um, Isak?” Sana says, and he starts, his heart thumping and adrenaline coursing through him.  He hadn’t realized she was still there.

“Hmmm?” he says.  It’s the best he can do, as tired as he is.  Actual conversation is far out of his reach right now.

“I’m … um.  I’m sorry for being shitty to you yesterday.”

That startles Isak enough to jolt him out of his apathy, and he sends her a confused look.  “No, but why? I hadn’t done the work. You were right to be pissed.”

“Well, I talked to Elias last night.  Or okay, I might have ranted about how you’re an inconsiderate asshole, who can’t keep his mind off his partner for long enough to do his work.”  She clears her throat, looks at her feet, and taps her fingers uncomfortably on the table next to her. She’s not quite meeting his eyes now. “He … um.  Well, he told me I’m an ass.” She takes a deep breath and this time she does force herself to look at Isak. “He told me what’s up with Even. And I just wanted to say I’m sorry, and I think it’s great what you’re doing.”

Isak narrows his eyes as he looks at her.  “And how exactly do you know what I’m doing?”

This time her glare is exasperated.  “Isak, please. I’m a Seer. You’ve been distracted all week, and Even’s … well, he’s how he is.  Obviously you’re helping in some way.”

“Oh,” Isak says, having temporarily forgotten her type and its abilities.  He’s definitely more tired than he’d thought. “Okay. That’s … it’s okay, you know?  It was my work to do and I’m the one who forgot.”

“Mmmmm,” Sana says.  “I’m still sorry I was so shitty about it.  You shouldn’t have to be up all night for it.”

Something that’s been tapping at Isak’s brain for a few moments, trying to draw his attention, suddenly comes into focus.  If he hadn’t been so tired, Isak thinks he’d probably have picked it up right away. But now that it’s occurred to him, he freezes.  “How … how did Elias know about me and Even?” he asks. Because if Elias knows, how many others do? The panic that he might be unknowingly outed to the whole school sends icy cold shivers right through Isak and he’s feeling completely alert now.  Good old adrenaline and cortisol working again, lending focus where he had none before.

“He figured it out,” Sana says, seeming to grasp why he’s so anxious.  “No offense but it was pretty obvious that day at our place. And … and Sonja isn’t exactly happy about it all.  She talks about you guys all the time when she’s over, and again it’s kind of obvious why they broke up. Don’t worry, though.  Elias won’t say anything.” 

And  _ fuck. _  Isak’s panic hasn’t diminished with her words, because they terrify him.  Maybe if it was just Elias it’d be okay. But if it’s Sonja too, someone who doesn’t necessarily wish either Even or Isak well, then rumors are bound to escape sooner or later and he’s not ready for the world to know.  Not yet.

“Fuck,” he says, and Sana pats his arm.  

“Sonja’s not an asshole either,” she says.  “I’m pretty sure she only talks to Elias, and she hasn’t been all that open, even to him, from what I’ve overheard.  It’s all just being pissed off that Even ditched her for someone who isn’t a Beauty. Like I said, Elias is just good at figuring stuff out, and until Even says something himself I don’t think Elias will tell the others either.  It’s okay. I promise.”

Isak hopes she’s right, but the fear that stabs him as he heads home doesn’t want to play ball.  Worse, he can’t say anything to Even, not while he’s already so down. True to his word, he’d slipped back into apathetic lethargy and self-chastisement after their movie night.  Isak isn’t going to burden Even with this one, not while he’s still so fragile. So the fear is Isak’s to carry alone. That thought is enough to carry him home fully awake and alert, tension threading through his body and a paranoid worry that everyone who looks at him can somehow  _ tell. _

Isak arrives home just as his adrenaline-fueled anxiety finally drops away.  The result is that his body insists on crashing immediately. As much as Isak would like to just plop down face first in his bed and let unconsciousness drag him under, he’s aware that doing so would probably disturb Even.  And when he takes in his sleeping boyfriend, he looks almost at peace for the first time in several days. So Isak quietly removes his jeans and shirt and carefully climbs onto the bed so he can snuggle in behind Even, who’s still curled up in the small ball in which Isak left him this morning.  Wanting nothing more than to soak in his boyfriend’s presence and sleep forever, Isak tucks himself into Even’s back, lets his head fall into place against his neck, and almost immediately is dragged into sleep.

He wakes once to visit the bathroom, but his body is still so lethargic that all he can do while he’s up is pull the curtain across the window to block out the still over-bright sunlight, then crawl back into place behind Even, who doesn’t appear to have moved at all since Isak got here.  

Some indefinable time later, Isak feels Even stirring against him.  It’s darker now, the curtain blocking most of the light, and Isak thinks it might be close to dusk.  Which means that he’s slept almost the entire day away.

“Fuck,” he whines to himself, but even he has to admit that he feels better after being asleep.  He winds one arm around Even’s waist and pulls him closer. His body relaxes a little into Isak’s who lets himself drift again, enjoying the peaceful bubble.

Then Even moves, slips out from under Isak’s arm and lets his legs drop over the side of the bed.  Isak holds his breath. It looks like Even’s getting up, for the first time under his own steam and of his own free will.  Isak’s reluctant to move or do anything to let Even know he’s watching because for some reason, Even’s trying to hide it. Or at least, Isak thinks he is, though he doesn’t understand why.  Then Even looks back over his shoulder and right into Isak’s eyes, as if he’s known all along that Isak was here and seeing this. Isak smiles, letting Even see how delighted he is that he’s wanting to be up and about.  How good a sign this seems to be.

“Where are you going?” Isak asks.  

“I … uh.  I’m a bit hungry,” Even says, and Isak can hear the small grumble of his stomach as he says it.  Even’s voice is small and rusty, but it’s there and it’s so nice to hear it, particularly expressing a desire for food that goes beyond recognizing that he has to eat.  As much as Isak would love to lie here and revel in this newly energized Even, he wants to help.

So he says, “I’ll make something,” scrambling out of bed and grabbing the first clothes he can see, some sweatpants and a worn out t-shirt.  He can feel Even’s eyes on his body as he dresses, and while the intensity of that gaze makes him flush, he’s pleased. It’s been so long since Even has expressed any sort of sexual interest, and it’s overwhelming but also, Isak hopes, a sign that he’s getting better.  That he’s starting to return to himself. He lets his eyes linger on Even, as he asks what he wants to eat.

“Soup?” Even says, a question in his voice as if he’s not sure.  “Maybe? I don’t … whatever’s easiest.”

Even shrugs, and it’s clear he’s still unsure of what he wants.  But he’s asking for food, and his gaze is snagging on Isak’s chest, even with the shirt on, and Isak is finally happy.  He’s well rested for the first time in a week, his boyfriend is awake and relatively energetic, and it seems like the world is going right for once.  Isak can’t contain the huge grin that splits his face as he watches Even. There’s still a hesitation in Even’s eyes, though, and he drags his gaze away from Isak’s as if he’s asking for too much.  As if agreeing to let Isak cook something for him is some sort of burden. Impulsively, Isak takes Even’s face in his hands and moves it so he can look right into Even’s eyes.

“Hey.  Hey, Even.  It’s okay. I’m glad you feel like being up right now.  I’m happy to make soup if that’s what you want.”

Even’s eyes light up in a tired smile, and his face relaxes into a soft calm.  The corners of his lips twitch up, and Isak can’t help pressing a small kiss to them.  Even’s lips are chapped, rougher than usual, and yet the connection sparks a warmth in Isak’s chest.  He lets himself caress Even’s cheeks, and revels in the way Even’s eyes slip closed and his smile widens.  It settles something in Isak, knowing that he can ease Even’s worries with his touch. All the things they’ve always had are still there.  They’ve just been buried. It eases the tension that’s been sitting in Isak since his last conversation with Even’s mother. She’s wrong, and he knows it.  This  _ is _ good, for both of them.

They walk slowly out to the living area, where Even stops and looks around as if seeing it all for the first time.  Isak glances sideways at him and feels his heart expanding. This is the first time since Even got here more than a week ago that he’s left Isak’s bedroom to do more than just shower or use the bathroom.  It feels like a milestone, and Isak also looks at the room with new eyes. It’s littered with Eskild’s small touches, where he’s tried to make it homely. The row of bottles with candles in them are starting to get dusty, and Isak makes an idle mental note to help out with that.  But what he’s most concerned with is Even and where the most comfortable place to sit him down will be. It hasn’t escaped Isak’s notice that Even’s hand is shaking in his own and that the effort of getting here has taken a lot out of him, so it’s no surprise when Even takes things into his own hands, makes a beeline for the nearest couch and slumps onto it with a groan.

He pulls his legs up so he’s wedged into the small space, and his eyes close as if he’s exhausted himself just doing that.  So Isak leaves him to it, pulling a nearby throw over him and kissing his hair before he heads into the kitchen. He then busies himself preparing the soup, the routine of following a recipe making the time almost pleasant.  He chops vegetables, stir fries them, then sets them to boil, adding seasoning as he goes. Half an hour later, the scent from the pot is heavenly, and Isak can feel his own mouth watering. It’s been a long time since Isak has been truly interested in food himself.  He’s eaten because Eskild has forced him to, and he’s enjoyed it when he has, but nothing has stirred his appetite like this. It feels like another sign that things are getting better, and Isak hums a little as he works.

He gets some bowls out, fills them, then takes one with a spoon out to Even.  He’s lying listlessly on the couch watching some dancing show on TV, and Isak pauses in the doorway to watch.  Even like this, Even’s beautiful, with the fragility of his pale skin just emphasizing the structure of his face and the length of his neck.  Making his way over, Isak sits down on the edge of the couch. There’s barely enough space for him to perch, but he wants to be near Even now that he’s more awake than before.

“Here,” he says.  “Can you sit up? This isn’t the easiest to eat when you’re lying down.”

Even smiles, a pale imitation of his usual beauties, but it’s enough to draw one from Isak too.  It’s so  _ nice _ to see Even looking more alert.

“But I look good covered in soup,” he says, and Isak can’t contain the pleased roll of his eyes, and the laugh that startles out of him.  Even’s such a dork and his jokes are the  _ worst, _ but if he’s able to attempt one today then maybe he really is starting to improve.  

“Not that good, baby.  Now sit up please.”

Even does so, and Isak carefully sits the soup on a small table next to the couch.   

Once Even is eating, Isak lays one hand on his leg then pushes up and moves away.  Eskild’s on another couch supposedly reading a book, but Isak can see the way his eyes are taking everything in over the top of the cover.  When he sees Isak looking at him, Eskild drops all pretense and beckons him to come closer. He takes one of Isak’s hands and pats it with the other.

“I’m so proud of you, Baby Gay,” he says.  There’s so much sincerity in his voice that Isak flushes.  He shrugs uncomfortably and tries to pull back, but Eskild keeps hold of his hand.  “I mean it, Isak. You’ve been through so much, and you just keep on giving everything you have.”

“Anyone would do it,” Isak says and Eskild smiles.

“That’s where you’re wrong, my dear little protege.  Many people wouldn’t.” He looks over at Even and nods his head.  “You did that. Linn and I, we do what we can, but he’s never the same when you’re not here.  I just think you should know that.”

Isak can feel the slow bloom of his own smile as he nods.  “Thanks, Eskild.”

“I’ve been thinking, you see,” Eskild says.  “After you got spooked by that research. I watched, and you need to know, Baby Gay, that there’s definitely something real between you.”  He grins over at Even again. “Did you know he thinks you’re too good for him?”

Isak gapes at Eskild before looking back over his shoulder to where Even’s sitting.  He’s got the spoon halfway to his mouth and is eyeing them quizzically. He already looks better, with his face less pale and his eyes regaining some of their usual sparkle.  Isak nods, letting his smile widen briefly as he looks at Even before he’s startled out of the moment by the insistent buzzer. Groaning, Isak makes his way to the door to let them in, but Eskild slides forcefully in front of him and shushes him gently when he tries to protest.  Ever since the day with Even’s mother, Eskild has been on high alert. He never lets Isak be the one to greet Even’s parents and he’s always wary and suspicious when they’re around. In some ways, Isak is grateful, because dealing with more of their bullshit while he’s so tired is a horrifying thought.  They can so easily unbalance him and it takes a lot to get him back on an even keel after they’ve left. But he also doesn’t want to be seen as weak and incompetent by them. It’s important to him that he earns their respect, and that they won’t always be so reluctant to let him spend time with Even. And he’s never going to be able to do that if he hides behind someone else all the time.

Eskild’s protective vibe is in full swing today and Isak rolls his eyes as he greets Even’s parents coldly, but he’s soon thankful for Eskild’s care as they subtly insinuate that everything that’s been done for Even was Eskild’s work.  His mother has, understandably, sat down next to Even and is trying to engage with him now that he’s awake and up. Even, for his part, looks to be fully engaged with his food which gives Isak a small, savage thrill that something he’s made has this much impact on Even.  Still, the ever stronger suggestions that Eskild is a great caregiver while Isak is definitely subpar are starting to get to him. He can feel himself curling inwards and all his confident bravado dissipates in the face of their attitude. He feels small and weak and useless again, in the face of their commentary.

Even notices.  He holds his hand out to Isak, looks him straight in the eye  and compliments his food. Thanks him for it, even. It’s obvious in the intensity of Even’s stare and the unwavering hand extended towards him, that Even wants Isak to come and sit by him, that he wants to do something to help Isak in this moment.  So Isak does, snuggling down between Even and the arm of the couch, which isn’t comfortable but allows him to put his arm around Even and drop his head onto his shoulder. He lets out a relieved sigh and ignores Even’s mother who’s still seated on Even’s other side.  There’s a peace in being here like this, and as much as it’s been lovely looking after Even and taking care of his needs, there’s something nice in being the one who’s being protected again. It bothers Isak a little just how much he’s missed this side of their relationship.  He knows it’s all about give and take, and he finally understands exactly what that means. That both of them get to look after each other. As if to emphasize Isak’s thoughts, Even’s speaking to his mother.

“You still don’t get it, do you?” he asks her.

“What?”

“He’s good for me,” Even says, and while his voice is a little shaky, Isak can hear the firm determination in it and he smiles.  Even’s mother can hear it too; it’s plain on her face when Isak peeks past Even to see her reaction. “This is all good for me. It’s good here.”

“We know, Even, we just --”

Even cuts her off, his laugh bitter and disbelieving.  “Obviously you don’t know, though. You sit here and act like he’s nothing, when he’s actually everything.”

_ Me, _ Isak thinks.   _ He’s talking about me? _  The idea that someone can feel that way about him is overwhelming, in the best possible way, and Isak lets himself smile into Even’s shoulder.  But his mother’s next words throw an icy dampness over all his thoughts.

“Listen to yourself, Even.  This is obsession and it’s not healthy.  I thought you’d get over it after the mania disappeared but you’re as delusional as ever.”

_ Obsession.  Delusion. _  There are those words again.  But this time, they don’t upset Isak in quite the same way.  This time Even tenses under his arm and Isak’s focus snaps straight to him and his comfort.  His breaths are coming in short gasps and his hand on Isak’s knee is clenched almost painfully tight.  Isak’s about to speak, to push back against some of this shit she keeps spewing, but before he can Eskild starts talking.

“Maybe it’s not delusion, then.  Did you think about that?” he says.  Isak chances a look over at him, and the determined glare, and firm voice send another wave of warmth through Isak.  Whatever Even’s parents may think, it’s clear that Isak has people at his back, people who will stand up for him. It’s a heady thought, and a lump forms in his throat as he thinks about it while Eskild keeps talking.  “I admit, when I first met Even I thought, ‘this will never work, this funny not-archetype thing they have going on,’ but I watch them and they’re good.” 

Isak smiles around the confusing whirl of his emotions, amused that the conversation they had just a few minutes ago is being repeated for the benefit of Even’s parents.  More, they’re listening to Eskild because for whatever reason they’ve decided he’s trustworthy and that his words and ideas carry weight. Isak’s thankful that he’s here and that he’s willing to make a stand for Isak and Even.

“Isak is very supportive,” Eskild continues.   “He cooks and he cleans and he listens and he hugs.  He’s always there and he never complains. And your Even.  He’s so good. I see the way he feels, I see how sad he is and yet he’s so kind all the time.  He looks out for Isak, too. He does that even when he’s like this.” Eskild waves his hand at Even.  “You should give this a chance, archetype or not. That’s your son and this is what he needs right now.”

It’s too much and Isak can feel tears forming again, the lump rising almost painfully as he tries unsuccessfully to push it all back down.  He hates this, wishes his body wouldn’t keep doing this when Even’s parents are near. If he’s going to appear strong and capable, then dissolving into tears every time they appear is not going to help his cause.  So he buries his head in Even’s shoulder and tries to surreptitiously wipe them away. He knows Eskild loves him; that’s been obvious from very early in their relationship. What hasn’t been so obvious is the depth of how much Eskild cares for him, for them.  That he’s so approving of their out-of-archetype thing is probably the biggest gift Isak has been given today apart from Even’s happier frame of mind.

It all seems to have had an effect on Even’s parents, too, as they retreat to the kitchen to talk alone.  Isak reaches out for Eskild’s hand again and squeezes it.

“Thanks, Eskild,” he says.

“You’re so welcome, Baby Gay.”

The tone in which he says the endearment is so clearly designed to infuriate Isak that he can’t help but snarl at Eskild.  On the other hand, it takes his mind off whatever is going on in the other room, and he sighs. Blesses Eskild and his consideration, no matter how odd the form it takes might be sometimes.  Wishes he could stay here forever, cuddled into Even and with his Godmother being so considerate of him. 

“Baby?”

It’s Even’s voice and Isak looks up, allowing the joy he feels at hearing that particular endearment to spill over into his face.  How long has it been since Even called him that? He definitely hasn’t said it at all since he dropped into his depression, and it sparks some long slumbering happiness in Isak when he hears it.  As if he recognizes the significance too, Even smiles at Isak, calm and loving, though there’s an exhaustion sitting behind his eyes that makes Isak’s heart ache. It’s been a big day. 

“I’m tired,” Even says, as if in agreement.  “I want to go back to bed.”

“Okay.”

It takes time, but Isak makes sure Even gets back to the bedroom in comfort.  He’s shivering, so Isak wraps a blanket around his shoulders then offers his hand in case Even needs the support as he walks.  Even takes it, and Isak feels a small squeeze on his fingers as they start moving towards the door to his room. Even falters a few times as they walk, but Isak makes sure he doesn’t intrude, doesn’t force his help on Even.  Even, for his part, barely presses against Isak, using him mostly for emotional support it seems. They have to stop in the door for Even to catch his breath, and Isak jerks when he notices both Even’s parents have emerged from the kitchen and are standing in the doorway with their eyes on Isak and Even.  They’re staring at their linked hands, their eyes considering, and Isak flushes. It’s hard to remember that he’s allowed this, particularly when people who are so important to Even act as if there’s something wrong with what they’re doing. This reminds him too forcefully of his own mother’s attitude and her constant barrage of texts.  Still, he’s not going to let anyone else dictate his life. So instead of reacting, Isak looks to Even, and waits for him to feel ready to move again. By the time they start heading towards the bed again, Isak’s almost managed to push Even’s parents out of his mind.

Even gets back into bed and it’s clear exactly how much this time has cost him.  The cheerful front he’d had up for his parents has gone, and he looks frail and tired.  Isak climbs on after him, sitting with his back against the wall and his hand in its accustomed place in Even’s hair as he lies beside him.  It’s peaceful here like this, despite the sound of voices coming from the living room. Isak knows he should feel guilty for leaving Eskild with the hosting duties.  But he doesn’t have the energy to worry about it now. All he wants is to be with Even, in their own small world where no-one else matters.

They lie like that for a few minutes.  Evening has set in fully, the room is dim with only a sliver of dull light peeking in from behind the curtain.  It’s restful in a way that Isak can’t quantify, and he lets his hand stir in Even’s hair.

“Baby?” Isak asks quietly as Even’s head presses back against his hand.

“Mmmmm?” Even responds, just as quietly.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

He’s watching Even as he speaks and, even in the dim light Isak sees the fleeting lifting of his lips as he snuggles in closer.

“I’m glad I’m here, too,” he says.  “You’re nice. It’s nice with you.”

His voice is low, barely discernible, but Isak can hear the fondness it contains and he smiles. “It’s nice with you too,” he says.  He leans over to grab his computer, then sits back against the wall. Even’s eyes have closed and his breathing is evening out into sleep again.  Isak smiles, then starts up a movie. He knows it’s one of Even’s favorites, having teased him about his pretentious taste before. So he smiles as Even’s head moves under his fingers in unconscious recognition.  

It’s moments like this that Isak cherishes.  Even’s not well yet, Isak knows that, but there are glimmers of hope.  Nothing looks quite as bleak as it did just a few days ago, and Isak is thankful.  They’ve weathered this so far, and Isak’s fears of fucking up so completely that Even wants to run away from him have diminished.  Even seems happy here now, or as happy as he can be at the moment, and Isak in his turn is happy to take it, for now. He settles in to watch the movie, sure in the knowledge that they have each other’s backs.  Even may not be well, but he’s still willing to stand up for Isak. Just like Isak will for him. That’s going to be enough to get them through.


	8. Chapter 8

Startling awake to the sound of his screeching alarm, Isak grabs it, works quickly to make it stop shrieking, then reflexively looks to his right.  His heart clenches when he sees the bed empty beside him. Reaching out to run his fingers over the spot Even usually sleeps in, it’s obvious that Even has been gone for a significant period of time.  The sheets are cool, and to make matters worse, there’s not even a sense of another presence in the room. Isak sighs, closes his eyes, takes a breath and tries to push the panic away. This is  _ good. _  Even’s up and about; he’s not tied to the bed anymore.  There’s no reason for Isak to be worried right now. That his worry still taps at his brain is just another function of his body which science can explain.  Because Isak’s not an asshole and he actually loves that Even is getting better; he’s not worried that Even has left him. Not really.

Of course, the logical talk doesn’t stop the sharp pang of disappointment Isak feels.  He always loves the feeling of waking next to Even, of the two of them so intertwined you can’t tell one from the other.  Of knowing that his leg will be hooked over Even’s and his head tucked into the crook of Even’s neck. It’s something that he’d been missing while Even was in the deepest stages of his depression, and more often than not, Isak was the one wrapped around Even.  That’s good, too, of course; being with Even feels fucking amazing no matter how they’re lying. But Isak has always enjoyed the ease with which they fall into place together, had missed it while Even was so sick, and now that it’s started returning Isak is greedily desperate to keep it.

But it’s good that Even’s up, Isak reminds himself again.  It’s so recent that Even’s cared enough to leave the room without prompting, that this is a great thing.  So Isak squashes the sadness and wanders out to the kitchen. Even is indeed there, sitting at the small table and laughing at something Eskild has just said.  His eyes are crinkling beams of energy, and his laugh sets something fluttery and hopeful loose inside Isak. He walks to Even, presses a kiss to his cheek and is rewarded with a cheerful, “halla,” and a small kiss to the corner of his own mouth.

“Hey, baby, how did you sleep?” Even asks when Isak slips into the chair next to him and reaches for some of the toast Eskild has made.

Isak makes a face.  “It was okay,” he says, trying to avoid the underlying questions:  _ did you get enough?  Are you still sleep deprived? Can you function okay? _  It’s not quite a lie.  Isak slept better than he has for a while; he’s maybe not as refreshed as he should be, but he’s not feeling like he can’t move either.  He knows from experience that catching up requires time, anyway. The important thing in all this is that Even has noticed and recognized Isak’s sleep patterns.  He’s beginning to get better, the small patterns of the boy Isak recognizes as well-Even starting to bleed through the depressed moments. So Isak smiles, wraps one hand around Even’s arm and squeezes it.  “Thank you for asking.”

The grin Isak gets in return, all innocent freedom and joyous excitement, sets him on his way to school with a renewed energy and a bounce in his step.  The sun is shining, the rays warm on his face as he makes his way from the tram to the school gates. It’s such a nice feeling after so long living with an exhaustion that meant noticing the environment took too much energy altogether.  Isak’s reveling in the feeling of those rays for a few last seconds when he feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, bro,” Jonas says as Isak opens his eyes in irritation at the interruption.  “You’re looking better.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Isak says, squinting at him and trying to gauge his mood.  Isak knows he’s been run down, but it’s still a little uncomfortable to be reminded that everyone around him could tell, and despite being a little more balanced after sleeping okay for once, Isak is still not in the mood to be lectured, knows he’s still on the knife’s edge between  _ okay _ and  _ shitty asshole who needs more sleep. _

“Loosen up, Isak,” Mahdi says, appearing at his other side.  “The day is young, the sun is out. Everything’s chill.”

“It’s not fucking chill,” Isak snaps before drawing in a hasty breath and looking away with embarrassment.  “Sorry,” he mutters. “I’m still not sleeping too good.”

Instead of appeasing them, this information just seems to make the others even more uncomfortable.  Magnus bumps his shoulder, hard enough to knock Isak off balance. “You need some pills or something?”

Isak shakes his head, irritated that they think he can’t cope on his own.  “No, I don’t. I’m fine. I just need to catch up a bit.” He shakes them off, and starts heading for the doors.  “I’ll see you in class.”

He doesn’t bother to check behind him, knows exactly what sort of looks they’ll all be giving him.  There are times when Isak wishes he could relax a little, drop some of the worry and the anxiety from the giant bubble that sits around his heart labeled  _ Even. _  He’s good today, Isak knows that.  But there have been too many times when he’s returned home to find Even back in bed after a good start to a day for him to let it all go.  His fingers twitch, wanting to thumb up his phone and send a message. To Even, or to Eskild. Or even Linn. But he refrains with an effort.  It’s important not to hover and be overbearing, even when he’s hyper aware of the minutes ticking away while they’re apart, so Isak forces his mind to focus on school, and the day ahead instead.  

Eskild’s words echo in his head:   _ It’s not good for you.  It’s not good for Even either. _  Intellectually, Isak knows it’s true, but he can’t help it.  There’s a fear sitting on his heart, rubbing scratches into his sense of peace.  If he’s not there for Even, then what happens if Even’s parents -- or worse, Even himself -- decide that Isak is no good and that all this has to end?  Outcasts never do well with partners of other types; it’s a truism bled into his bones, told to him over many years by many people and innumerable stories.  Beasts never cope well without Beauties; that’s another truism told in tale after tale, fairy story after fairy story. Isak’s self aware enough to know that part of his fear is that he’s somehow caused this episode, or is making it worse, by being an Outcast rather than a Beauty.  Intellectually, he knows it’s bullshit, but that small piece that sits in his heart is hard to shake off.

It’s not like Isak doesn’t know his friends are trying to help.  The problem is that all their suggestions are so simplistic: take a drug, get over it, just stop thinking about it.  But it’s not simple, and Isak doesn’t want a drug. 

He sighs as he slides into his seat and drags his books out.  It’s only the first lesson and already the day seems long and tiresome.  

“Isak, you’ve got to stop being so shitty,” Jonas says matter of factly as he sits down next to Isak.  “The boys are getting sick of it.”

“Of course they are,” Isak mutters as he looks at his book and carefully flips a page to avoid his friend’s eye.  “I’m sorry, though,” he says more forcefully than he’d intended, as he takes in Jonas’s frown and creased forehead out of the corner of his eye.  “I’m not trying to be an asshole.”

“Maybe you’re not trying to, but that’s what you’re being,” Jonas says.  “If it really is the sleep, then you’ve got to sort that shit out, bro. A therapist or something ...”

“I’m not talking to some asshole stranger about what’s going on,” Isak says, and again it’s a little sharper than he’d intended.  

Jonas hums noncommittally.  He’s looking at Isak with that combination of concern and superiority that’s been getting under Isak’s skin lately.  “Well, you’ve got to do something,” Jonas says. His tone is mild, but it’s enough to make Isak grit his teeth in irritation.  He wants to snap out a retort but deep inside he knows this is the insomnia talking. The anger racing through him comes from too many days of too little sleep.  Still, he does his best to ignore Jonas for the rest of the lesson, afraid that if he tries to say something he’ll snap at someone who doesn’t deserve it. It’s not that hard to do; the subject matter is complex and Isak is having trouble taking it all in.

He wants to plonk his head down on the desk and sleep but he knows he has to concentrate.  He’s getting too far behind now. Ideally, Isak would like to be able to compartmentalize, the way he’d wanted to when all that was bothering him was his overactive hormones.  Looking back on those days, Isak almost barks out a disbelieving laugh. He’d thought  _ that _ was an issue for his concentration?  Maybe this is karma biting his ass for that thought.

By the end of the lesson, Isak’s head is pounding and he’s feeling mildly sick from the pain that stabs him whenever he moves his head.  So when Jonas asks, “you want to come to McDonalds after school?” Isak shakes his head, wincing as pain lances through it. 

“Nah.  I’m not feeling so good, and I have to get back to Even anyway.”

Trying to act more like his usual self, Isak salutes Jonas as they part for their next classes.  Jonas doesn’t look convinced. Indeed, he looks sad and disappointed, but Isak doesn’t dwell on that.  Instead, he sends Even a quick message asking how he’s feeling and gets back  _ fine, baby _ and then, very quickly after,  _ just like you _ in response.  It’s enough to get Isak through the rest of the day, with the hope that Even really has turned the corner this time.

The rest of the day passes in a blur of different classes and teachers, the subject matter blending together into one mass of painful incomprehension that Isak is sure is going to be impossible to untangle whenever he gets around to studying.  When he makes his way onto the tram home, he’s exhausted. The headache is still tapping at his brain. Every time he turns his head too fast it throbs and a sick pain races through him to sit uneasily in his belly. Isak dreams only of getting home and falling head first into his bed.  He’s not even sure he’s going to wait for Even to be out of the way, it’s that bad. So it’s with a groan that sends another painful burst through his skull that Isak sees a new text from Jonas.

_ Bro.  I didn’t get a chance to say earlier, but the school doctor is good to talk to _

_ I told you, I don’t want to talk to some stranger _

_ Just get some pills, asshole, or something.  Sort your shit out _

Isak ponders what he could send in return, but it all comes across as too passive aggressive ( _ whatever _ ), or plain too aggressive ( _ keep out of it asshole _ ) so he lets the phone fall into his lap and ignores the message.  Resting his head on the back of the seat behind him, Isak thinks about it.  Not that he wants to see this doctor, whoever it might be, but he knows he needs to do something.  He’s angry all the time, his sleep patterns are still fucked up despite his best efforts and worst of all, he’s pushing away all his friends.  There’s a tone bleeding into Jonas’s messages and the short conversations they’ve had lately that suggests he’s getting fed up. That if Isak doesn’t break this shit down somehow, Jonas isn’t always going to be there.  The thought terrifies Isak. Doing things alone is second nature to him now, but the idea of losing the people he cares about … well, that’s something he doesn’t want to acknowledge. By the time he gets home, Isak has almost resolved to do something.  Whether that something is to see this doctor, or some other nebulous possibility that isn’t quite as stressful he’s not sure. Still, that will have to wait. Even is back in bed, his eyes sunken again and his face pale and drawn. That’s what’s important right now; the rest is going to have to wait.  Even needs Isak, and Isak is going to be there for him.

Despite Isak’s best intentions, the next few days fall back into his accustomed routine: sleeping badly and losing focus.  School is still hard, and Isak struggles to catch up, made worse by the difficulties keeping his eyes open. He’s a little annoyed with himself because he’s let his affection for Even, and the subsequent concern while he’s been so ill, get in the way of his actual goals.  The teachers he worked so hard to impress in the first few days of school have now slipped back into a pattern of assuming Isak is still the same as he was last year when everything was going to shit and he wasn’t paying any attention to things like his school work. It’s infuriating, and Isak is determined to make them see him in a new way.  The problem is, it’s not that easy for him to wing it this year. Last year it wasn’t so hard to tune out for a week or so and then just pick everything up. This year, it’s excruciating. Groaning over one particularly difficult concept, Isak makes a plan to see if Sana will be willing to do some more study sessions. He needs something to help kick his ass into shape.

His phone pings as Isak leaves his last class for the day, frustrated and out of sorts.  He glances at the name and groans again. Fucking Emma.

_ Hei Isak.  Outcast meetup today at KB _

He’s about to message back saying he’s busy, when the phone lights up again.

_ I checked with everyone and they say you’re free.  So I’ll see you there. 20 minutes _

Isak throws his head back in irritation.  The presumption is ridiculous. He’s an Outcast, and she’s an Outcast.  She likes her friends, so he must like her friends. There’s no room for argument in her world.  And in some ways, Isak gets it. When you live on the margins, there’s something nice about being able to say fuck you to the norms of the world.  When you’re constantly pushed aside and feel like you have no control, there’s something exciting in being able to just take control when you can. But the problem is Isak himself.  He’s not on board with what Emma wants so this approach is pissing him off. The last thing he wants to do is to spend time with those girls again, but he also knows Emma is never going to get off his case if he doesn’t agree.  He thinks it’ll be easier this time maybe, with other people around. And selfishly, he thinks it’ll be a cleaner break and an easier getaway if he tells Emma he’s not interested when they’re surrounded by other people. He knows Outcasts, after all, and knows that fitting in and not making a scene is their likely response to a stressful situation.  So he just permits himself one roll of the eyes, then sends an affirmative back.

 

Twenty minutes later, when Isak pushes open the door and spots the three girls already sitting at one tiny table, he’s regretting the impulse to agree to come here.  He pauses just inside the doorway, trying to gather his confidence as he watches the girls. They’re sitting, leaning forward with shining eyes as they talk. Emma is waving her hands around while Mari and Lea nod, occasionally gasping or covering their mouths with their hands.  They laugh, the sound reaching Isak even from the back of the room. He sighs, the door behind him is pushed open, and he knows he has to move.

“Hi,” he says, sliding into the chair that’s been left for him.  It’s been placed close to Emma’s and Isak internally rolls his eyes as he scoots it out and away from her when he sits.  

“Hi, Isak,” Mari says, smiling at him.  “It’s good to see you again.”

He flushes, can hear the casual jibe behind the words.  “It’s been busy,” he says. “School and family stuff. You know.”  He shrugs, awkwardly. His body feels stiff and unnatural as he tries to get comfortable in this group.  Mari’s eyes flick over him once and she raises her eyebrows at Emma, who shifts restlessly on the chair beside Isak.

“You should join more,” she says.  “Just focusing on school is bad for you.”

“No offense, Emma, but I have other friends.”

She huffs, clearly getting irritated with him.  “Not Outcasts, though. Don’t you want a bond?”

Desperate to get out of this conversation, Isak flashes her an insincere smile and excuses himself to get a drink.  While he’s gone, taking his time considering his order, he tries to settle himself. Antagonizing these people isn’t what he wants to achieve; he just wants to be at a point where they can be friendly but not expect him to be part of their bond circle.  So he takes a deep breath, returns to the table and chats with them as peacefully as he can. Some of their comments (particularly around being in-archetype and the ways in which Outcast bonds are superior to other friendships) make him roll his eyes, but he’s careful to keep it where they can’t see it.  Eventually, however, the point of all this becomes clear. Lea turns to Isak with a sweet smile. It doesn’t quite reach her eyes, though, and Isak stiffens in alarm as she leans forward to pat his hand.

“So, Isak.  You’re friends with that new third year, aren’t you?”

“Mmmm,” Mari adds, her eyes taking on a glint.  “He’s so weird. What’s his deal?”

“If you mean Even, then yeah I am,” Isak says, trying hard to keep the frost out of his voice.  He can tell by the slight widening of Lea’s eyes and the glance she directs at Emma that he hasn’t been successful, and they know they’ve struck a nerve.  He grimaces.

“He’s so hot, though,” Emma adds now, pushing her leg against Isak’s.  “Even if he’s weird, I’d fuck him.” She squints up at Isak. “What do you think?”

Isak shrugs.  “I really don’t care if he’s hot, or who you’d fuck,” he says.  There’s heat rising into his cheeks at the bare faced lie, but he tries to ignore it.  “And I don’t like gossip.”

“Touchy,” Emma says, sniggering.  “Maybe  _ you _ want to fuck him.”  The girls all giggle and Isak rolls his eyes.  He knows they’re just trying to bait him, but it’s hitting too close to home for comfort.

“Well, as great as this has been,” Isak says, pushing his chair back to stand up, “I need to be getting home.  It’s my turn to cook.”

“Oooh,” Emma says, running her hand along his arm.  “I love a man who can cook.”

Shaking her off with a shudder, Isak starts to move towards the door.  Behind him, he hears the squeak of a chair and so he isn’t surprised when he feels a hand on his own.

“Hey, Isak,” Emma says as he turns to look at her.  Her voice is uncharacteristically serious and he blinks.  Taking that as permission to speak, she continues, “you know it’s all good if you … if you want to bang guys, right?”  Panic floods Isak at the words and he gapes at her. Blood rushes to his ears, and he shakes his head, almost numb as the implications of what she’s saying sink in.  She takes that as disagreement with the sentiment and smiles, her body language relaxing immediately. Isak doesn’t think he needs to set her right, so he just stands there looking at her, soaked in relief and sure it’s plastered all over his face.  She blushes, glances up at him, and shifts on the balls of her feet. “I just …” she looks away, then back up at him and there’s a plea in her eyes. “It’s just … don’t you want to fuck me?”

Isak laughs; he can’t help it.  Emma’s face falls, and he grabs her arm before she can storm off.  “Emma, I’m sorry if I ever seemed like I wanted that. But … the truth is that I really ... I just don’t want to fuck anyone right now.”   _ Liar, _ his brain screams at him.   _ You really want to fuck Even right this minute, admit it. _  Isak pastes as sincere a smile onto his face as he can, trying to ignore the internal monologue.

“Oh,” Emma says, and there’s something in her voice that makes Isak think she’s got the wrong idea again.  He’s about to try to wriggle out of this painfully awkward conversation, when she pats his hand and nods. “Okay, then.  If you’re a virgin that’s okay. It’s okay for us to wait.”

“No, that’s not--” he starts, but she’s gone, back to the table and to the eager gossip of the girls.  He rolls his eyes. There are worse things she could think, but he really needs to make her understand that he doesn’t want  _ her. _  At all.  But for now this will do.  At least she’s moved on from thinking he wants to fuck guys, and Even specifically.

When he gets home, Isak thumps through the door, irritated and feeling aggressive.  Still, he puts his bag into his room carefully, wary of waking Even who looks like he’s sleeping peacefully for once.  Isak’s still out of sorts from the run-in with Emma and her friends, and he’s unsure how their reactions are going to play out in the wider school.  He can’t stop running Emma’s suggestions that she thinks he might be gay (or at least her casual assumption that he wants to fuck boys) over in his mind.  First there was the fear that Elias or Sonja might let it out, and now there’s Emma. There are far too many people who know, or think they know, for Isak’s peace of mind.  He tries to examine why he feels this way as he makes his way into the the kitchen to get a snack. He’s not ashamed of Even, or of what they have, after all. So why is it so hard to be open about it?  He hasn’t come to any conclusion when he rounds the door and stops short at the sight that greets him.

Jonas is sprawled in one of their tiny chairs with his elbows flat on the table in front of him, leaning forward and laughing at something Eskild has been saying.  There are half empty mugs of coffee in front of each of them, and a small plate which has crumbs and not much else on it. They’ve clearly been here for a while, then, and both look very comfortable.  Isak swallows his fear at the sight. It’s not like last time, he reminds himself. Eskild doesn’t have any more secrets of Isak’s he can spill, and Jonas knows all the important things and hasn’t run away screaming as yet.  There’s no reason to be wary.

Even so, the way they both stop laughing when he enters the room, and the way Jonas’s eyes skitter over towards Eskild when Isak clears his throat suggest that there’s some hidden agenda going on here.

“Hei,” Isak says, testing the waters.  

“Halla, Baby Gay,” Eskild says, and Jonas mutters a soft, “hi.”

Isak takes his time rummaging for food in the fridge, partly to find something to eat, but at least partly so he can compose his face and not let his suspicion and fear show.  He takes a few deep breaths, calms his racing heart, then searches more purposefully. He eventually spots some fruit, and backs out with an apple, wrinkling his nose, but determined to eat something.  Eskild is watching closely, and beams when he sees Isak’s choice. He’s been fairly open about his dismay at Isak’s eating habits over the last few weeks, and Isak is well aware that he hasn’t been making the very best of choices.  So he flushes, considers putting it back, but realizes that will just increase the attention he’s getting. So he walks slowly to the table and sits down too. He starts to eat, willing one of the others to say something to break the awkward silence that has settled over the room.

“What’s up?” Isak asks, when the silence has stretched for long enough to be too uncomfortable and the sound of the apple crunching between his teeth becomes unbearable.

“We were just waiting for you to get home,” Eskild says.  “Didn’t expect you to be so long or Jonas wouldn’t have bothered waiting.”

There’s a question in his voice, a hint that it’s unusual for Isak not to be home as soon as possible after school these days.

Isak groans.  “I was with bloody Emma again.  She never takes no for an answer, her and her friends.”

Jonas squints at Isak in suspicion.  “Aren’t they your bondmates?” he asks, and Isak shakes his head.  He’s too tired of the pretence.

“Nah.  I’m not feeling it with them now,” he says, careful not to imply they never bonded at all.  He’s not ready for Jonas to know that side of things. “I don’t think I’m going to hang with them anymore.”

Eskild nods thoughtfully.  “Make sure you don’t shut yourself off, though, Baby Gay.  That’s not good for you.”

His voice is very casual, too casual, and Isak freezes, the apple halfway to his mouth.  He turns to Jonas, and startles a fleeting look of guilt on his face. This is what this all about, then.  They’re ganging up on him.

“I’m not, though?” he says, trying to use his usual bravado to get him through this.  “They’ve always been shit.” He glares at Jonas. “You know that. Why would I keep hanging with them?”

Jonas has the grace to look ashamed, and nods at Eskild.  “That part’s true. She’s always been annoying, and Isak’s never really liked her.”

“Hmmm,” Eskild says, sitting back and crossing his arms as he looks Isak over.  He’s clearly not convinced, and Isak drags another of his best smiles onto his face, settling in to try to convince them that he’s fine.

“You don’t have to do this alone, you know?” Jonas says now, leaning forward and patting his arm.  “You have people who can help.”

“Do what alone?”

“This Even thing,” Jonas says.  “Ever since he’s been unwell, you’ve been so distant.”  He clears his throat, looks embarrassed. Takes a beat or two before he adds, “I … uh.  I miss you, bro.”

“Oh,” Isak says, startled.  It’s never really occurred to him that his behavior has had an effect on other people around him.  He’s been so focused on Even and what Even needs that he’s forgotten the other people in his life. “It’s not … I’m not avoiding you,” he says.

“Feels like it,” Jonas mutters, and he can’t quite meet Isak’s eyes.  “And like … the other day. You know, when we were trying to help. It’s like you don’t even like us anymore.”

Isak flushes.  His overreaction to the boys’ attempts to help him is a source of continual embarrassment.  “I do, though,” he says. “I just … Even needs me. I can’t just--”

“Baby Gay,” Eskild cuts in.  “Do you remember when I said you can’t help him if you can’t help yourself?”

“Sure,” Isak says.  He’s not sure why Eskild is bringing this up right now.

“This is what I mean,” Eskild says.  “You’re isolating yourself until it’s just you and Even.  It’s not good for you. For either of you.”

“So I should just let him suffer alone?” Isak snaps, angry that they’re judging him like this.  It’s not like Even is going to miraculously get better if Isak stops spending time with him. He huffs, intending to say more, when Eskild sits forward abruptly, cutting into Isak’s thoughts and grabbing his hand.

“That’s not what I’m saying, Isak.”  The use of his name makes Isak stop what he was going to say and look at Eskild warily.  It’s always serious when he moves on from the irritating nickname to Isak’s real name. Eskild smiles at him gently, pats his hand.  “I’m saying, let the rest of us help you. And go do some stuff for yourself. Work out with Jonas, like you said you would. Go get kebab with the boys.  Do stuff that’s not Even-related.”

“I did stuff,” Isak mutters, feeling mutinous.  “Saw Emma.”

Jonas snorts.  “Don’t act like that was a fun thing you did for yourself,” he says and that draws a reluctant smile from Isak.  Fuck Jonas for not letting him get away with that comment.

“Fuck you,” he says, but he’s feeling a little lighter.  It hurts that the things he’s been doing for Even are being examined and found wanting like this.  It’s not like Isak’s been trying to be an asshole to everyone. All he’s wanted to do was be a good boyfriend, make Even happy and earn his parents’ respect.  But now it seems like everything Isak has done has been wrong. That hurts, and Isak can’t deny that. But there’s a small swell of affection for these people, a small acknowledgement that it’s been hard carrying so much of this on his shoulders.  The hint that someone else is willing to step in and pick up some of that burden is a welcome thought. Then the horror kicks in. Isak literally just thought of Even as a burden. He shakes his head, tries to forget he ever had the thought. It doesn’t work and a lump forms in his throat.

“Jesus fuck,” he whispers.  “I’m an asshole.” He looks up at the others.  “It’s so hard,” he says, finally letting himself say what’s been weighing on his heart for a long time.  Hoping against hope that they don’t judge him for finding this stuff harder than he’d expected, even now that Even seems to be improving.  Hoping they won’t suggest that he’s a shit boyfriend if he can’t give Even everything he needs.

“It is hard,” Eskild says kindly, and then as if he understands why Isak is so uncomfortable saying this.  “Look, Isak. None of this is Even’s fault. And none of this is your fault. But you’re feeling like this because you’re not giving yourself permission to stop and do things just for you.”

“What are you?  A fucking therapist?” Isak says through the lump that’s clogging his throat.

Eskild laughs.  “No. But I am your guru, and I care about you.”

“Me too, bro,” Jonas says, knocking into Isak’s shoulder with his own.  “We just want to help.”

“Yeah.”  Isak nods, looking away.  “Yeah, I know. I’ll … I’ll try.”  He looks back at them. “I’m just so tired.  All the time.”

“No offence, bro, but we can tell,” Jonas says with a small laugh.  “You’re not yourself.”

“I just don’t want to let him down,” Isak whispers.  He wants to let them help, wants to give over some of the stress and the worry and the round the clock concern.  But there’s part of him that says if he does that, he loses the chance to show Even’s parents that he’s not bad for their son.  So he sits in this small kitchen, around an overcrowded table and silently asks benediction from his friends.

“Isak,” Eskild says carefully, drawing him into an awkward one-armed hug.  “You’re not letting him down. We can all help. That’s what family is for.”  He sits back and smiles around at both the others. “You’re not alone, Baby Gay.  It’s okay to need help, and it’s okay to be selfish.”

“Yeah,” Jonas says.  “I miss you and I want to hang with you again.  You’d be doing me a favor.”

Isak snorts at that, at the transparency.  But at the same time he can hear the sincerity in his friend’s voice.  It speaks of a long time being left on the sidelines of Isak’s life, and Isak responds to it.  He knows that feeling, knows how shit it feels, and so he reaches out to clasp Jonas’s hand.

“Yeah, okay,” he says.  “We should go workout sometime.”

Jonas’s face softens in relief and he nods.  “Yeah, you need it bro. Getting a bit soft round the middle there.”

Blessing the turn the conversation has taken for the lighter, Isak scoffs and shoves his friend.  They move onto other subjects, but the glow Isak feels from their care remains. He’s still anxious and worried about how his absence might affect Even, but he also knows Eskild is right.  Running himself ragged hasn’t helped, and he’s been distant and out of sorts for days. Something has to change.   
  


Even gets better.  At first, it’s not obvious.  His moods swing wildly, and for every one day of near-normality, he then suffers several where he’s back in bed and seems as low as ever.  But slowly, the good days seem to outweigh the bad, and more often than not Isak returns home from school to find Even sitting up in the living room with Eskild, or playing Fifa with Linn, sitting up on Isak’s bed fully dressed.  Isak’s chest stops feeling quite so constrained, and he stops feeling quite as much as though he’s responsible for the weight of the world. Or at least of Even’s health and happiness. Though he can’t help the small twinges of fear that still worm their way in.  As an Outcast, and one whose family abandoned him far too young, Isak is still not used to the idea that he isn’t responsible for every little thing in his life, that other people may be able and willing to help without something going wrong. 

Despite those fears, Isak allows himself to go to the gym with Jonas.  He finds the repetitions of each set of exercises once again give him a sense of stability, of certainty, and he definitely feels better every time he does.  He allows himself to go get kebab with his friends, and even spends a few hours with them in the weekend. He enjoys all of it, likes spending time with these people who want nothing more than to roast him and to be roasted in turn.   But, even though Isak knows his flatmates are competent people who are perfectly capable of looking after Even, he still feels prickles of guilt when he leaves Even for longer than the normal school day. The persistent idea that this is Isak’s responsibility and that he’s letting everyone down when he lets other people do it is hard to shake, and he despairs of ever being able to let it go completely.

It does get easier, though.  Every time Isak leaves Even and he returns to find him more awake or sitting up cheerfully with other people, or even just lying peacefully in bed wearing a small smile, Isak feels a little better about having left him.  He still frets during his time away, but he doesn’t check his phone every few minutes for the time or to see if anyone has contacted him. Slowly it becomes routine to allow others to do what they can without second guessing every moment.  It’s nice, and Isak does feel better.

He arrives home one day to find Even sitting with his shoes on and an expectant look on his face.  Bending down to kiss him hello, Isak smiles.

“You look like you’re on a mission,” he says.

“I am,” Even agrees, reaching up to briefly kiss him back.  “I want to go for a walk.”

Isak grins, swamped with emotion from this one small new development.  “Okay,” he agrees. “Where are we going?”

Even shrugs and he looks a little lost.  “Maybe a park? I just want to feel the sun.  It’s such a nice day out there.” He indicates towards the window where he’s pulled back the blanket-curtain and the sun is indeed spilling into the room.

They make their way out of the apartment and down the stairs.  Even’s clearly not used to walking far anymore. His breathing is labored and his pace slow.  But he’s cheerful, grinning from ear to ear, and Isak can feel the delight that’s sitting behind this small action.  They amble together, though Even’s not talking, choosing instead to throw his head back, close his eyes and let a small smile play over his face at the touch of the sun.   Isak enjoys the moment; it’s nice to be so firmly focused in the here and now. Even’s ability to exist entirely in the present moment is a gift and Isak revels in it, tries to emulate it.

They find a small park with one tiny bench, and sink down onto it.  Even’s breath is coming in harsh, winded pants. In all honesty, unlike Isak who enjoys exercising to clear his mind, Even’s probably never been particularly fit, preferring to sit and sketch or write small snippets of movie ideas over running or jumping.  So they sit quietly, fingers curled around each other between them. Isak looks out at the trees bordering the green space and lets himself relax. 

“This is nice,” he says eventually.  “Sometimes it’s good just to sit.”

“Mmmm,” Even agrees.  He turns to look at Isak, and there’s so much affection in his eyes that it takes Isak’s breath away.  “Thank you for coming with me,” he says. “It means a lot.”

Pushing down the irrational fear that Even has been sad and lonely without Isak these last few days, Isak squeezes his hand in reply.  “I like being with you,” Isak says. “I like being able to just be quiet and not have to say stupid shit just because.”

Even laughs, clearly remembering their first real conversation.  “Expectations suck,” he says, tilting his head so he can soak in the sun again.

Isak smiles, lets his own head do the same.  The memory of that first time they hung out together lingers, and Isak finds himself smiling.  Expectations do suck, and maybe even more so when they’re ones you put on yourself. He resolves to try to do better.  It’s not been good for him to second guess every little thing he’s done. This moment here with Even has emphasized the benefits of slowing right down and just existing.  No expectations, no worries, just being in the moment.

  
  


There’s a party that weekend, one that the boys have been excited about for days, but Isak isn’t sure he wants to go.  Even is a lot better, and he’s up and around far more often now than not. Despite his new energy, however, Isak knows Even is unlikely to be up to going to a party and resents the idea of taking all that time away from his boyfriend.  It’s not that Isak wants to avoid his friends, it’s just that he’s enjoying spending time with Even now that he’s more alert and more willing to talk and engage. Spending time with him is nicer, more chill, less filled with self doubt.  Isak has stopped second guessing everything he says or does and he feels a lot more peaceful for it. He enjoys being with Even, relaxing, hanging out. So he’s careful not to mention the party while Even is around, hoping to avoid the awkward moment when he has to finally say what he’s doing one way or the other.

“Baby?” Even asks one evening as they’re lying together watching another of his horribly pretentious movies.  This one involves some girl lying and causing problems for the people around her. It’s not  _ quite _ deadly dull, but it’s close and Isak is only surviving it because the guy on screen is really hot, with his piercing blue eyes and simmering stare.

“Mmmmm?” Isak hums, not really paying attention, too caught up in the warmth of Even’s embrace and the hotness of the character he’s watching.

“Are you going to that party this weekend?”

Isak stiffens, then forces his body to relax in the hope Even hasn’t felt it, but realizes he’s failed when Even tugs on his hoodie.  It’s a silent request for Isak to look at him and Isak can never say no when Even asks like that. So he looks up, and feels his breath punch out of him at the concern in Even’s eyes.  They’re scanning his face, trying to find something. He looks anxious and unhappy.

“I … uh.  I wasn’t planning to,” Isak says.  “Why?”

Even’s mouth twists a little, and his eyes gain a little more sadness.  “It’s not because of me, is it?” he asks.

“No,” Isak says, then feels an immediate sense of guilt at lying to Even.  “Or … not really? I want to be with you and I know you won’t want to go, so …”

“What if I do want to?” Even asks, and Isak feels his breath sucking in.  

“You want to go?  To a party? Really?”

Even shrugs, and this time there’s a gleam in his eyes, a hint of laughter.  “Not really,” he says. “But I might have. You can’t know I don’t.”

Isak laughs, sits up and peers down into Even’s face.  “Baby, in all the time I’ve known you, you’ve never really liked parties.  Why would you want to go to this one?”

Laughing, Even pulls Isak so he falls back down onto the bed, and Even can lean over to look down at him.  He’s teasing now, the old fire in his eyes and grin on his lips. “I’m a man of mystery, Isak,” he says. “I’m just keeping it fresh.”  He quietens, looks at Isak thoughtfully. “But I don’t want you to stay here just because I don’t want to be there. I know you enjoy them, parties.”

Isak doesn’t really have a come back to that.  It’s true he has always enjoyed parties. He likes letting loose a little, drinking, smoking weed.  Sitting with his friends and saying the stupidest shit they can think of while they’re drunk and high.  He enjoys the aftermath, too, the way they all share the pain of the consequences, meeting in the morning to soak it all up with greasy food and endless complaints.  It’s also true that even though he’s been better recently, Isak hasn’t really spent much time with his friends. The moments with them have all been fleeting -- working out, eating, a short time playing games, no more than a couple of hours at a time.  The idea of being with them for longer is both appealing and terrifying. 

“I just …” Isak starts, then finds he can’t finish.  He turns away from Even’s steady gaze to make it easier.  “I don’t want you to feel lonely.”

“Baby,” Even says, and his voice is infinitely fond, “I won’t be lonely, I promise.  Linn’s usually here and even if she isn’t I can watch something, maybe do some drawing.  I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Isak says, looking back at Even and seeing the sincerity in his eyes.  “I’ll think about it.”

They turn their attention back to the movie but Isak’s mind is at least half on the conversation they just had.  There was something in Even’s tone that suggested that he, too, feels like he’s holding Isak back, like he feels that time spent with him is a strain on Isak that Even doesn’t want to end up in resentment.

“I like being with you,” Isak says, trying to cut through that idea if that’s indeed what Even’s been thinking.  “You make me feel calm.”

He turns so he can see Even’s face, and presses a small kiss to Even’s lips, the sort they’ve become used to again.  The sort that say  _ I’m here and you’re enough, _ because it’s been so long since they really kissed at all.  These kisses are an acknowledgement that while things may not be back to how they had been, there’s the potential for that to come soon.  Even hums his appreciation, gives Isak a kiss in return, one that says  _ you’re enough too. _

“I know,” Even says as he settles more comfortably behind Isak.  “I feel the same.”

It settles Isak a little, that reassurance.  He thinks he might go the the party, as long as Even is still feeling as good as he is right now.  As much as he feels the pull towards staying with Even, he also wants Even to feel good. If that means Isak needs to do more by and for himself, then so be it.  As long as Even is feeling okay that day. 

  
  


So it is that Saturday night finds Isak in a room filled with sweaty bodies while music thumps, sending pulses of energy through his body.  It’s hot, and the beer he has clutched in his hand has gone warm, the cool drips long since dried up. He’s scanning the crowd for his friends.  They’d scattered upon arrival, Jonas spotting Eva and her new girlfriend and making his way towards them with a sad face and heavy steps. Mahdi had seen his weed man, and had followed him outside with a promise to return when he scored something.  Magnus, of course, had gone straight for Vilde. She’d been leaning on a wall, beer pressed to her lips and her eyes steady on the door when they came in. Her face had lit up and her gaze had dropped when they appeared, but her eyes had flickered up and met Magnus’s.  Isak had laughed, punched Magnus’s shoulder and told him to go for it. She certainly seemed keen enough as she watched him approaching, lifting her eyes to his in what looked like a very flirty way. Isak glances at the spot he’d last seen them in, and sees the corner empty.  He laughs. It definitely looks like Magnus is getting what he’s been after for so long.

However, it all leaves Isak alone, holding up the wall and clutching his one warm beer as if it might save him.  Jonas is nowhere to be found, clearly having followed Eva and the mystery girl to some other location and Isak’s heart is heavy.  He can’t help but think a lot of this was his doing. Jonas has been so sad since Eva got together with her Princess, and it’s only now that Isak really looks back on the way he’s been treating Jonas lately.  He’s been so caught up in Even and his issues, that he hasn’t really seen what everyone else has had going on. It’s worst with Jonas, though. He’s the one who’s in this spot because Isak put him there, and he’s the one who kept reaching out to Isak when he was so focused on Even he couldn’t see anyone or anything else.  He’s the one Isak has been pushing away while he’s been dealing with all this shit. Shit Isak had a hand in creating. Feeling like an asshole, Isak resolves to find Jonas and explain. He’s even starting to move away from the wall to make his way over to the spot he vaguely remembers Jonas heading for, but he’s interrupted by Magnus.

“Bro!” he yells, his eyes alight and a huge grin on his face.  “I totally scored!”

Isak pushes his guilty thoughts away and smiles at his friend.  “With  _ your _ game?  I doubt it,” he says, and laughs as Magnus sucks his breath in with a disgruntled expression on his face.

“She was really into it, too,” he says.  “Vilde, I mean.” He grins at Isak.  _  “She _ fucking kissed  _ me. _  It was …” he waves his hands around in a gesture that’s clearly intended to mean  _ fucking amazing. _

Isak sighs, jealousy coursing through him at Magnus’s glee, and unable to keep the memories of the kisses he used to share with Even out of his head.  He wants that again, but is wary of pushing while Even still isn’t totally well. Magnus looks at him sharply; even in his own blissed out state he’s noticed something is off with Isak.

“We should go smoke something,” he says, knocking his shoulder into Isak’s and throwing him off balance a little.  “You know, to celebrate.”

“You don’t want to go back to Vilde?” Isak asks.  “Hook up some more?”

Magnus shakes his head.  “Nah. Some friend of hers came along crying about some shit and she had to go deal with that.  Said we’d meet up some other time, though.”

Isak can picture it, too.  Vilde may be the world’s most irritating person (possibly apart from Emma, though Isak thinks there may not be much between them), but she’s also the world’s most motherly person.  It baffles him that she’s not a Godmother considering how much she does for others and how insistently she tries to make everyone’s lives better. He can so easily see Vilde dropping her own wants and needs to help someone else exactly as Magnus is describing.  Which, he guesses, is why she’s a Sidekick. When everyone else is more important than yourself it makes sense. For a moment he feels a pang of sympathy for her; it’s a lot like Outcasts really. Not ever being truly the center of anyone’s world, not even your own.

“Tough,” Isak says now as he raises his brows at Magnus.  “Thrown over for a crying girl.”

“Fuck you,” Magnus says, but he’s still grinning, so Isak knows he’s not actually pissed.  “You want to smoke, or am I going to have to find some actually fun people?”

“Yeah, I’m in,” Isak says, and starts to move in the direction of the back door.  Magnus grabs his arm and shakes his head when Isak turns to look at him.

“Bathroom,” Magnus says.  “Less people there.”

Shrugging, Isak follows Magnus through the crowd to the relative peace of the hallway.  They quickly locate the bathroom and slip inside. Isak pushes the door shut and leans back against it with a sigh.  The music is still thumping, but it’s softened into a dull throb in here. He hadn’t realized just how intrusive he’d been finding the music until it’s mostly gone.  He sighs in relief, then opens his eyes as he notices Magnus rummaging in his pockets.

“You’ve got some stuff?” Isak asks, laughing when Magnus swears as the bag he has stashed snags on something in the pocket.

“Yeah,” Magnus says, grinning in triumph as he finally extricates it.  “Just in case Vilde, you know …”

“In case she told you to fuck off?  This is self-pity weed?” Isak says, but he holds his hand out when Magnus passes him the joint once he’s lit it.  He sucks in a deep breath, grins at Magnus when he feels the hit and passes it back to his friend.

“Shit that’s good,” Magnus says as he plops himself down on the toilet seat and takes his own drag.  Isak shrugs, slides down the door until he’s sitting with his back against it, and holds his hand out to grab it back again.

“Yeah, it’s good shit.”

“Even didn’t want to come?” Magnus asks after a few minutes of passing the weed between them.  

“Nah.  He’s not well … or well, he’s better I think?  But still not properly well?”

Isak’s aware that he’s babbling, that the weed and the beer has loosened his tongue in a way it probably shouldn’t have, in a way that might be giving too much information.  But he doesn’t care; he’s too relaxed to worry about what he might be spilling.

“A little cold is keeping him from school and the most epic parties?  That’s really sad, Isak.”

Offended on Even’s behalf, Isak shakes his head.  “No. Nothing like that. He was manic for a bit, then depressed.  No tiny cold could affect Even.” Isak hears the pride in his voice and allows a small smile onto his face. 

“Wait wait wait … Even’s bipolar?” Magnus’s voice has gone high pitched and excited.  “My mamma’s bipolar, too. That makes us practically bros.”

“Your mother’s bipolar?” Isak asks, sitting forward, suddenly interested in Magnus and what he has to say.  “What’s she like?”

“She’s so great,” Magnus says.  “The best. Does the coolest things when she’s up.”  He laughs, obviously remembering something she’s done but Isak grimaces.  What he saw of Even’s mania was uncomfortable and difficult to follow, not something to be joking about.  Apart from, maybe, the delight in Isak’s dick. That had been fun, for a while.

“Even’s great, too,” Isak says, able to agree with that part at least.  “He’s the best fucking person.” He leans his head back against the door and grins at Magnus.

Magnus winks at him.  “The best person for fucking, you mean?”

Groaning, Isak rolls his eyes.  “It’s not all about sex, Magnus.  That’s your problem, you know?” He glances at Magnus as he takes the weed again.  “You need to see girls beyond their fuckability.”

“I do, though!” Magnus protests.  “Vilde’s the nicest person; sometimes I think she’s too nice.”

Privately, Isak disagrees, but he’s feeling too mellow to argue or to prick holes in Magnus’s ideas, so he just hums an acknowledgement that he’s heard.  They sit like that for a few more minutes, as the weed dwindles and their thoughts both obviously stray to things they don’t want to discuss. But it’s nice.  It’s been a long time since Isak felt comfortable enough with people who aren’t Even to do this. So eventually he sighs and looks over at Magnus.

“Looks like we’re out,” he says, laughing as he sees the tiny end of the joint in Magnus’s fingers as he tries to take one last hit.

“Yeah.  Fuck it was good though.”  Magnus looks over at Isak again.  “How is it then?” he asks. “With Even I mean.”

“It’s … okay,” Isak says, not pretending that he doesn’t understand what Magnus is asking.  “Better now he’s better. But fucking scary for a while.”

“Mmmm,” Magnus agrees.  “It can be, a bit. But you just go with what they want, you know?  So long as it’s not dangerous.”

That startles Isak.  “Dangerous?”

Magnus waves his hand around as if he didn’t just say something terrifying.  “Yeah, just don’t let him do stupid shit that could hurt someone and it’s all chill.”

“It’s all chill,” Isak echoes.  That makes a lot of sense and he relaxes a little more.  That’s all he did anyway, just went with whatever Even seemed to want at the time.  It’s nice to know from someone with more experience that it was the right instinct. “Thanks, Magnus.  You’re okay, you know?”

“Just keeping it real.”

Isak laughs.  Magnus is so chill and relaxed, and so accepting in the end.  It’s nice. He’s about to open his mouth to say something more profound when the door behind him slams into his head and he yells.  “Fuck!”

Magnus collapses off the toilet seat in hysterics and Isak scowls at him as he scoots forward so he can turn and glare at whoever has pushed on this door.

“Sorry,” Eva says, smirking down at Isak with her head poking into the room.  “But you shouldn’t sit next to popular doors.”

“Fuck you,” Isak says, rubbing his head as pain lances through it from the spot she’d hit.  “You could have knocked.”

“Oh but where’s the fun in that?”

She slips inside the room, pushing the door further open to let someone else in.  Isak’s about to protest some more, grumble that she could have seriously hurt him, when it hits him who has followed Eva inside.

“Noora?   _ You’re _ the mystery Princess?”

“I don’t know about mystery, but I am a Princess, yes,” Noora says, looking down at him with a quizzical expression.  “You live in my old room, though, so I’m not sure why it’s so weird to you.”

“No.  I just … I heard Eva was with a Princess; I just didn’t realize it was you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not sure why it’s so important to you,” Eva says.  “Since when do you care who I’m with?”

Isak flushes.  “Oh, I … I don’t really.  It was just interesting with you being out of archetype again.  And I didn’t know Noora was back. That’s all.”

Eva is getting the look she often does when she’s feeling pissed off, Noora is looking guilty, and Isak swallows, tries to think of some way to turn the conversation in another direction.  He wishes he could tell Eva the truth, let her know he’s interested because of Even and his own out of archetype relationship. But he can’t even tell her that much; the words stick in his throat when he tries.  Let alone when he considers telling her his part in splitting her and Jonas up.

Thankfully, Magnus comes to the rescue, asking how Vilde is and if she’s finished dealing with her unhappy friend.  They both relax and Noora snorts.

“Chris?  Nah, she left ages ago.  Never stays upset for long and was off trying to find some guy she’s got a crush on.  Vilde doesn’t approve and tried to stop her.” She sniffs as she thinks about it. “She’s sulking around here somewhere now.”

Magnus lights up at that, stands and quickly excuses himself.  Isak laughs as he hastily sets his clothes to rights, smoothing out the creases he’s gained from sitting so long, and patting his hair into place from where he’s run his fingers through it all night.

“Good luck, bro.”  He raises his previously-discarded beer to Eva and Noora.  “I have a feeling he might need all the help he can get,” he adds after Magnus leaves.

“Seriously,” Eva says as she takes his place on the toilet and drinks her own beer.  “Vilde might be desperate, but I don’t think she’s that desperate.”

“He said they hooked up earlier,” Isak says, and Eva gasps aloud.

“They didn’t!”

“Apparently they did,” Isak says, smiling at her, enjoying her delighted disbelief.  If he wasn’t feeling so guilty about what had happened between her and Jonas, he’d be happy right now.  It’s been too long since he hung out with Eva and she used to be one of the people who could make him laugh the most.

Noora plops herself down on Eva’s knee and gives her a small kiss then whispers something in her ear.  Isak scoots back until he’s leaning against the door again. He watches them for a few moments, enjoying the way they are so comfortable with each other, how good they seem to be together.  He clears his throat.

“Can I ask a question?” he asks.  Their heads both snap around to him as if they hadn’t realized he was still there.

“Go ahead,” Noora says after a short glance at Eva.

“What’s it like?  Being out of archetype and with the same gender?”

“No different to being out of archetype any other way,” Eva says and Noora nods.

“It’s not … people aren’t shitty about it?”

“You mean like asking intrusive questions?” Eva asks and laughs when Isak blushes.  “They’re not bad,” she says. “There are always assholes, of course, but there were assholes when I was with Jonas too.  It’s just that they don’t matter.”

“They don’t matter,” Isak repeats, thoughtfully.  “That’s … that’s good to know.”

“Why do you want to know?” Noora asks, sharing another of those looks with Eva and Isak panics a little.  His heart races as he thinks about how obvious he’s probably being right now.

“I just can’t see myself with another Outcast,” he says, trying to sound sincere.  “It’s nice to know it can work … not being in archetype, I mean.”

“Yeah, it works,” Eva says, giggling a little as Noora kisses her again.

Isak figures they won’t miss him if he leaves now, so he mutters a goodbye, stands up and lets himself out of the room.  He’s tired, all his energy dissipated, and all he wants is to go home and fall into bed with Even. So he carefully avoids making eye contact with anyone, gets outside and starts making his way homewards.  He sends the boys a text letting them know he’s gone, and then focuses on Even. The boy he’s in love with. The boy he shouldn’t have anything in common with, and yet the boy who gives him everything. There is a comfort in knowing that other people are doing the same thing too.  That other people face the same issues and the same pressures and make it work. “They don’t matter,” Isak mutters to himself as he lets himself into the room and snuggles up behind a sleeping Even. They  _ don’t _ matter.  He lets himself kiss Even’s hair, revels in the feeling of his body melting back into his own. This is all that matters.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been having a bit of trouble with this fic lately, mostly with finding time to write. The length of the chapters had become a bit daunting when I was trying to marry it with full time work, so I've decided to do shorter chapters but more of them (by shorter, I mean 10-ish k rather than 15+). This will hopefully mean a happier, less daunted me and a faster output for the chapters themselves, but it does mean I now have no real idea of how many chapters there will be. This is the second of the ones I've done this with (though the first was more fluke than planning) and so hopefully we'll see if it has an impact. Let me know what you think, and if it works or not.

“You want to go get kebab?” Isak asks one day, plonking himself down onto the bed next to Even, who’s sitting up, leaning against the wall, wearing soft sweatpants and a hoodie that Isak knows is comfortable because it belongs to him.  Even looks cozy and warm, as if he’s ready to snuggle in for the day, but Isak can see a restless energy in his eyes.

It has become easier every day, this balance Isak’s trying to find.  Isak’s not sure if that’s because Even is significantly better now, or because Isak is more at ease because of the conversation he had with Eva and Noora.  Certainly, whenever Isak arrives home from school these days, Even’s usually sitting up and waiting for him. Sometimes he still looks haunted and there are bags under his eyes, but he still greets Isak with a smile and a kiss.  For his part, Isak is more willing to accept invitations from his friends to do things, and while he checks with Even that it’s okay, he isn’t filled with the same sort of anxiety as he had in the past. Regardless, he likes doing things with Even and it’s nice that Even is far more likely to agree now.

“Kebab?” Even says.  “Why kebab?”

“I haven’t had any in a long time and I just wanted some.  And I thought you might like to come too,” Isak says. He smiles at Even, reaching over to touch his face and trace the lines of his lips.  Even’s expression changes, softens. He looks like he’s weighing up whether he wants to or not, so Isak adds,“no big deal if you don’t want to, though.  It’s chill to go by myself.”

He forces himself to wait, not to push.  It’s clear that it’s one of Even’s less-great days, and Isak knows he’s trying to figure out if the energy output required for the trip is outweighed by his desire for food and being with Isak.  Eventually Even laughs, a surprisingly unfettered sound considering his eyes have been telling that story of indecision. Isak can feel his own face split further into a smile in response. He hasn’t heard that sound, so free and exhilarated, in such a long time.

“That’d be chill,” Even says, that bubbling joy clear in his voice.  “Kebab is great.”

“It really is,” Isak agrees.

The walk to the shop is filled with banter and laughter and Isak’s heart is light.  He loves this, loves being with Even and having him mock his lack of sunglasses as Isak squints into the sun, and Isak being able to mock his pretentiousness in return.  They can’t hold hands, but the affection between them is still there anyway, bleeding through the light teasing. Even’s laughter is contagious, ringing out often as they walk.  It melts a previously anxious block of ice from Isak’s chest and he can’t resist reaching out to touch Even’s face briefly. 

“I like seeing you laugh,” he says, and Even smiles.  It’s one of those smiles that starts deep inside him and blooms slowly over his face as if he can’t possibly contain it.  

“I like seeing you laugh, too,” Even says.  There’s something sitting behind his words, as if he, too, has missed this.  Has missed the ease and the joy that flows between them.

The peace is shattered by a voice that makes Even stop in his tracks and drains his face of color.  Isak looks up to see two guys exiting the same kebab place they are heading to. It’s clear from Even’s reaction that he knows them, and well.  And also that he’s not happy to see them. The next few minutes are excruciating. Even gives a fake, uncomfortable smile, nods at the guys, talks stiffly with one of them while the other looks on with a look of sadness on his face.  Meeting these people has moved Even’s body from the casual ease with which he walked here to a tautness that fits him like a too-small glove. His eyes are anxious, flitting from one to the other and he’s jiggling, as if his legs want to take flight even while his head nods and says all the right things.  Isak feels all the guilt of being the one who asked Even to come for this walk with him. 

He recognizes one of the guys from Sana’s house, the one who hasn’t greeted Even and who looks sad and pensive, and watches warily as he approaches.  It makes no sense that this guy Isak doesn’t know is coming to talk to  _ him. _  But curiosity overtakes him, and he lets the guy move close enough to whisper in Isak’s ear.

“How’s he doing?” the guys asks, and there’s a wealth of emotion in his eyes as he pulls back a little to take in Isak’s appearance.  Isak can’t parse that emotion; it’s something careful and honest. But it seems old, as if this is something the guy takes with him as extra baggage.  Something related to Even.

“He’s okay,” Isak says, slowly, weighing his words carefully.  He’s still baffled as to why this guy is asking him, but the way the eyes of both guys also flit between Even and each other with strong eyebrow conversations, suggests that they know at least  _ something _ of Even’s situation.  Despite recognizing that there’s a history here, Isak is unwilling to divulge too much.  He has no way to know what Even wants these guys to know, after all. So he stays as neutral as he can as replies.  “It’s all chill.”

“Mmmm,” the guy nods.  “Well … look out for him, okay?  It’s … he’s … I know things aren’t great for him.”

Isak nods, feeling numb.  Glancing at Even, Isak can see the taut lines of his body, even stronger now as the conversation with the other guy gets deeper, and the unhappy tilt of his chin.  He remembers how scared and anxious Even had been that other night at Sana’s house and moves to try to give him as much reassurance as he can. In truth, it’s not much.  Just a small brush of his fingers on Even’s arm. It seems to help anyway; Even’s body relaxes at the touch.

“Well, if you change your mind you know where we are,” the guy who’s just been talking to Isak says to Even, jumping into a conversation Isak has completely missed.  It bothers Isak, a little, knowing that there are undercurrents here that he has no way of understanding, and seeing the way they all clearly know each other so well they can pick up conversational threads this easily.  That Isak can’t do that makes him feel uneasy; he can’t help Even if he can’t understand what’s going on. The fact that these guys are affecting Even so much is just an added extra layer of crappiness on top of everything else.  Isak grimaces, trying to be as present for Even as he can be; it’s all he has. It’s times like this when he wishes he was less of a coward and that he was open enough with their relationship to be able to give Even what he needs.  Instead, it’s this tiny brush of fingers shivering over a small patch of skin. It’s not nearly enough even though Even relaxes under the touch.

“We’re having a party in a couple of weeks,” the other guy tells Even, dragging Isak’s attention back to the moment rather than the ‘what ifs’ he’s been dwelling on.  “You’d be welcome.” He looks between Even and Isak and smiles, making Isak’s body tense in anxiety as he recognizes the knowledge (or … suspicion? maybe?) sitting in that expression.  There are  _ more _ people who have this whole thing between him and Even figured out?  The idea freezes Isak’s blood and makes his chest tighten. “Both of you would be welcome,” the guy continues.  “Always. No matter what.”

Isak sees the understanding blossoming in Even’s eyes too.  But instead of the tension that has taken residence in Isak’s body, Even relaxes, his mouth quirks into a tiny smile, and he lets his breath out in a relieved sigh.  

“I’ll … uh.  We’ll keep it in mind.”  Even looks at the guys and smiles.  It looks genuine and for that Isak is grateful even while his own mind is screaming in panic.   The guys leave and Even stares after them. He looks pensive, but isn’t as upset as he had been last time.  Isak lets his hand run down Even’s arm and is rewarded with a tiny shiver of acknowledgement.

“You okay?” Isak asks, and Even takes a whistling breath in, then nods.

“Yeah.  Yeah I am.  So, let’s get some kebab, okay?”

They enter the shop and order.  By the time they leave, Even is laughing again and Isak is able to take a deep breath of relief himself.  The meeting with the others was obviously hard, but it hasn’t totally affected Even the way it did last time.  Still, Isak is concerned about him and wants to be sure he’s okay. He’s still getting over his episode and Isak is still trying to figure all this out.  So later that evening, after they’ve finished eating, he broaches the subject again.

“That was the guy from that video you made?” Isak asks, his hand running along Even’s shoulder blade as he lies against Isak.  It’s clumsy, not the suave segue into this conversation that Isak had intended, but it’s what he has so he brazens it out. Smiles as Even meets his eyes and raises his brow.  Even smiles back, his lips a little thin and wobbly, but it looks genuine.

“Mikael, yeah.  He was my best friend once.”

“But something happened,” Isak says.  It’s been so obvious that it’s not even a question but Even still nods.

“Yeah.  It’s a long and complicated story, and I’m sorry but I’m not really up to talking about it.”

It’s a comment that should make Isak anxious, considering he’s just been worrying about Even and the way he might be coping with everything, but there’s something in Even’s voice that settles him instead.  It says that Even is happy to talk about this, that he’s not rejecting Isak. But that he just doesn’t feel like now is the time. Even’s not ready, and that’s okay.

Isak nods, understanding the unspoken truths in Even’s voice.  “Yeah I get that.”

They lie in silence for a long while and Isak is almost asleep when Even speaks again, his voice small and vulnerable.“I’m sorry,” he says, and Isak only has energy to give a small acknowledging hum.  Still, all his senses are snapping to alert and any desire to sleep has fled. Even laughs, but there’s a bitter tone to it, which makes sense when he continues. “I should have told you about being bipolar.”

Isak stirs, restless now that it’s come to this.  He stills his gentle motions on Even’s shoulder, trying to work out what to say to that.  It’s not that he doesn’t think this is important, or that Even should forget it. But in this moment it becomes crystal clear that  _ Isak _ doesn’t care.  Even’s beating himself up, and Isak is just thankful that he knows at all and that he still has Even here after the trials of the last few weeks.

“No, that’s not …” Isak says, drawing the words out as he works his way through how to say this without making Even feel any worse.  Because it’s obvious in the tone of his voice that this is painful for him. “I said before you don’t owe me anything.”

“Still.  It must have scared the shit out of you when I got here that night when I …”

There’s agony in Even’s voice now and he trails off, the word  _ manic _ hanging in the air between them. Instinctively, Isak kisses Even’s hair, wanting to feel that connection again, wanting to reassure Even that he wasn’t scared.  Not really. It had been overwhelming, and Isak’s not willing to deny the struggles of those first few days. But equally, Isak’s not going to go into this now when Even’s feeling so bad, not when those struggles aren’t the important point here.  So he answers the spoken question and leaves all the unspoken ones to the side.

“Actually, your dad called us and let us know you were coming.”

Even stills, tension thrumming in his body.  Isak can feel the way he’s vibrating as he tries to navigate this conversation, realizes he’s not doing a great job of reassuring Even about that day.  

“Oh,” Even says.  “That’s … uh, I guess that’s good.”

“They said you gave them the number.”

“I guess I did, yeah.”

There’s sadness in that voice, an implication that Even still blames himself for the way things panned out that night.  Despite that, Even’s being so open and so … so goddam sweet that Isak can’t take it anymore. He’s taken on so much of the burden of what happened and it hurts Isak to see him doing this to himself.  There’s a whispering fear that Even hadn’t told Isak about his illness because of the way Isak had behaved when he learned about the Beast, and he has to say something. Because as much as Even thinks he should have been more open, Isak too feels like he’s been part of the issue.

“I’m sorry, too, baby.” 

Even sits up and stares down at him.  There’s a puzzlement in his eyes that Isak can’t bear, so he tries to get Even to lie back down and let them take up their old positions.  Maybe let the whole thing drop and go back to a comfortable haze. But instead, Even takes Isak’s face in his hands and makes him look at him.  The puzzlement is turning to pain and it hurts Isak that he’s doing this. It’s too soon after the episode; Even shouldn’t have to deal with Isak and his stupid worries and issues.  He should never have said anything.

“Why are you sorry?”  Even asks before giving Isak a small kiss, just a brief brush of his lips.  It does calm Isak’s raging panic, at least a little, but the doubts and fears are still swirling.  “What did you do?” Even adds, and there’s a smile playing around the corner of his lips. It’s one of the ones he uses when he’s trying to make Isak relax and laugh his way out of something stressful.  Usually it makes him grateful, but today it feels like an indictment: Isak’s so messed up that Even has to placate him in this way. Even, who’s still struggling with the aftermath of his episode. Even, who is the one who should be comforted right now, is trying to settle Isak.  It’s not fair, and Isak can feel the lump rising in his throat. Then Even’s thumbs rub comfort onto Isak’s cheeks, he takes a breath (shaky and insecure, but steadying nevertheless), and speaks.

“It shouldn’t have been as hard for you to talk about as it was.  If I’d been more open with you, maybe …”

“Baby, hey.  No. It’s definitely not your issue.  Neither of us has to tell each other things we don’t want to.”  Now Even’s voice is shaking and Isak’s heart cracks. He’s fucking this up so badly.  All he’d wanted to do was apologize for his part in this mess and now here Even is, anxiety starting to curl tension into his body.  Isak can feel it in his hands, in the way the fingers are pressing harder into Isak’s cheeks in an obvious attempt to try to control their shaking.  Even’s trying  _ so hard _ to make this easier, but it doesn’t work.  Not even when he grins, his eyes crinkling as he adds “no matter how many stories I’ve been making up about what went on to make you move in here.”

Isak snorts, despite the tears he can feel pooling in the corners of his eyes and in the creases of his heart.  He tries to play along. “You have stories?”

“Do I have stories?  I have so many stories.  There’s the one where you’re actually a spy and you moved here for you own protection because your mother was getting too close to the truth.” Isak giggles, unable to keep them under control.  Even always seems to have this effect: he can lighten Isak’s mood with just a smile or a silly comment. It’s one of the best things about him, even when Isak isn’t necessarily in the mood. “Or the one where Eskild needed a man slave and you volunteered.  There’s the one where you lost a bet and had to join this house for a year as a personal chef, or the one where--”

As if a dam has burst, Isak is suddenly swamped with exhaustion.  He’s tired of the pretence he’s kept up around Even. Tired of pretending that everything is fine with his family.  Tired of hiding. Even’s stories are all so filled with light hearted banter and silly ideas. While they’re genuinely funny, the starkly contrasted reality of what actually happened is too much for Isak.  

“The one where I ran away from home because my mother got to be too much for me,” Isak says quietly, cutting off Even’s excited stories.  “The one where Eskild found me in a gay bar and brought me here and looked after me and has done ever since.”

There’s silence.  It stretches, eats time, and Isak’s heart is hammering, blood pounding an aggressive beat in his ears.  He can’t look up, can’t bring himself to see the disgust in Even’s eyes. Because it’s here now. Isak has to acknowledge that he’s an asshole who couldn’t stay with his own mother because she’s a Beast and her unpredictable rages were too much to bear.  He has to acknowledge that to his boyfriend, the person who means the most to him in the world. The person who is also a Beast.

“Seriously?” Even asks eventually, his voice gentle but concerned.  Isak hates it. That concern is going to turn to anger or hate when he knows.  Isak almost preferred the drawn out, anxious silence to this.

Isak nods.  He’s trying hard not to let the tears fall, but it’s not easy.  They’ve been hovering for so long now anyway and this is the final straw.  In this moment when Even is going to leave, it’s too much to ask of Isak that he keep his emotions in check.  If he has to lose the best thing to ever happen to him, then at least he can show it, let Even know exactly how much this has all meant to Isak.   

“I didn’t want to say anything because … well, it’s because of how she was as a Beast that it became too much.  But … I’m sick of not telling you.”

“Oh, baby.  I’m so sorry.”

“I thought you’d run away from me if I told you.  So I just didn’t say anything.”

Even laughs, but it’s not a happy laugh and Isak can feel himself freezing.  This is it, then. This is where Even tells Isak he’d rather not stick around because if Isak can feel and act that way about one Beast, he obviously can’t be trusted to do right by another.

“You’re not the only one, baby.  I didn’t tell you I was bipolar because I thought you’d react the way you did when you found out about the Beast.”  He stops for a few seconds, weighing something up. “But that’s why, isn’t it? You reacted like that because of your mother?”

Isak nods, swamped with misery.  “I’ve been such an asshole,” he says.  “I won’t blame you if you want to leave.”

“Why would I want to leave?”

Isak shrugs, refusing to even look at Even.  There’s no way he can bear the look he knows is going to be in those eyes that he loves.  

“I … uh.  I have a confession to make,” Even says.  “You remember that day with the soup?”

Feeling slightly happier, Isak nods.  That day is still seared in his memory as one of the good ones.  Even got better, even if it was brief. It was a sign in the darkness, a hint that none of this was going to last forever.  It was a good day.

“I was going to leave that day,”  Even says, and Isak is thrust into an icy lake.  He’s horrified; the cold swamps him, seeps into every pore.  That day Isak thought was so good was the day Even had wanted to leave!  All his fears are proven true and it leaves him shaking and feeling sick.  Even leans forward and kisses Isak, hard. “Baby, no. Not like that, I promise,” he says, and Isak is calmed somewhat by the tone in that voice.  He doesn’t  _ sound _ like someone who’s given up on Isak, even if his words suggest exactly that.  “I need you to know why, though. I thought … I honestly thought that it would be best for you not to be with me.  That if I stayed I was being selfish.”

That stops the spiral of Isak’s thoughts in their tracks.  

“Do you still think that way?” Isak asks, curious despite his fears.

“I … yeah, sometimes.  I have nothing to offer you except a Beast I can’t control and a mental illness that takes me over sometimes.  I’m a mess and you don’t deserve that.”

And somehow, that breaks through.  In all of this, Isak has felt as if Even would run if he somehow knew why Isak had rejected his own family.  So he’s been keeping it so close to his chest for fear of losing Even too. And all that time, Even has been sitting with  _ this. _

“Hey!” Isak can feel the fire in himself now.  He needs Even to know and understand what he thinks of all this, so he lays it out as best he can.  It’s maybe a little too forceful and maybe a little over the top, but he has to make this clear. “You’re not a mess and I’ll never want you to leave.”

Even freezes; his body goes rigid and he starts shaking.  That sinks in for Isak. He’s thought it a number of times over a number of days but now it  _ really _ sinks in.  They’re in this together.  They both have fears and worries and hangups.  They both worry that they can’t give each other what they need, they both worry that the other will wake up one day and want to leave, so maybe they both need to try to see past this.  

“Thank you,” Even whispers.  The understanding sits in his eyes too and Isak smiles.  It’s not an easy smile, not one of the ones that dances onto his face, but it’s one of the most important he’s ever given.  It emphasizes his next words in a way that the carefree ones never could.

“And anyway, you offer me every fucking thing.  Before you my life was pretty shit.”

“Eskild said something like that too, but when I’m in that state I can’t think straight and I didn’t believe him.”  Even sighs, looking away. “Not those words anyway.”

“There were words you did believe?”

Somehow, they’ve ended up with their hands clasped tight together.  It’s good, it’s anchoring Isak to the moment. That one blistering point of contact is holding him firmly to the ground, otherwise he’d be too much in his head, trying to analyze, trying to make this all make sense.  But it’s feelings and there’s no sense to be made. He just has to live this, and so does Even. His hand tightens in Isak’s, who squeezes back to let Even know he’s here and he’s listening. He also lets himself look at Even, because it seems like something he needs.  The look in his eyes is heart wrenching, vulnerable. He whispers as if he doesn’t want to say this either, but feels like he has to. Here, in this private space between them, it feels like they can.

“Yeah, all the shit ones, the ones which repeated anything anyone ever told me about how bad I was for you.”

Even’s voice is so thick with emotion that Isak can barely make out his words.  But the important thing is that Even thinks he’s bad for Isak and that just won’t do.

“You’re not bad for me!”

“I keep trying to believe that, but it’s hard.”  He takes a breath and pulls Isak into his body, onto his lap.  Isak goes willingly, wanting the closeness. He’s drained; this has been an exhausting conversation, even though it feels like something ugly has been lanced and the poison is starting to seep out of Isak’s body.  It’s still not been a pleasant experience. “Anyway,” Even continues into Isak’s neck where he’s buried his head, “even with all that shit people said and all the things my brain was telling me I still didn’t leave.  You know why?”

Isak shakes his head, lets his face bury itself into Even’s neck in return, so he feels rather than sees the small puff of laughter Even gives.  “Because being with you made me feel better, and I couldn’t bring myself to lose that.”

Isak’s arms wrap around Even as tight as he can get them.  He needs the reassurance of Even’s body, steady and warm and real against his own.  “I feel the same way,” he whispers. “I feel better when you’re here.”

“Okay,” Even says.  “We agree to stay here together then, making each other feel better?”

“Mmmmm,” Isak says.  “That sounds good.”

Exhausted, overwhelmed by the turn this conversation has taken, Isak lies down and pulls Even down with him.  They settle down together, allowing their heartbeats to slowly sync to each other. Isak feels better, he knows it was worth it, but the feelings that had overtaken him were big and powerful and Isak knows they’re not … not exactly good feelings.  Even has accepted them, and together they’ve worked through a couple of things. But Isak thinks maybe it’s time that he takes the advice of his other friends to try to help himself. He should go to see the school doctor, and at least try to sort some of this stuff out.  His sleep is still fucked up and this crap isn’t helping. So, he thinks as he listens to Even’s breathing even out into the soft cadences of sleep, maybe it’s time to stop being an asshole who tries to do it alone. Maybe he should finally admit he needs some actual help.

By Monday, Isak has made the final decision to see the school doctor.  In some ways it has relaxed him; he’s decided and can stop mulling it over.  In other ways, he now has tension taking up too much space in his body because it’s  _ hard. _  Isak’s never been one to go to doctors, not since he got old enough to take himself anyway.  It’s always been such a point of pride: he can do things on his own, he doesn’t need anyone. No absent father or difficult mother.  No doctors or other professionals. So admitting that Eskild and Jonas (and worse, the other boys) were right isn’t easy. Isak has to admit that his sleeplessness and his worries need  _ something, _ some sort of actual intervention and not the wishful hoping he’s been doing.  And that is much harder than he’d expected that day sitting in the warmth of their kitchen.  So it’s with trembling hands that Isak brushes his teeth that morning, the paste escaping onto his lips and creating a bubbling mask as it spreads.

Even enters the bathroom and laughs.  “You trying to be the next spooky clown, baby?”

Isak rolls his eyes.  “Fuck you,” he says, but his hands are steadier now.  Even has that effect on him. 

He catches Even’s eyes in the mirror and they’re shaded and anxious.  Dark marks sit under them, smudging the pale skin of his face and making him look even more vulnerable than he has for the last few days.  Isak smiles at him, trying to look more confident than he feels, because today is Even’s first day back at school after such a long absence and Isak knows  he’s feeling it too. Not that Even’s actually said anything; he’s dealing with this through a mixture of bravado and fucking terrible dick jokes. But it’s there in the shadows on his face and the subtle tension in his back.

“You ready for this?” Even asks; the slightly higher pitched, breathy quality of his voice betraying how much he’s feeling.  But Isak can tell he doesn’t want to talk about it, so he just grins at Even in the mirror, letting more of the bubbling paste spill out of his mouth.  It makes Even laugh. “You’re disgusting,” he says, moving Isak sideways a little so he can slip in beside him. “See if I want to kiss you now.”

“Baby, you can’t resist.”

Isak wriggles his brows at Even’s reflection and purses his lips, makes kissy noises and flutters his lashes.

“True,” Even agrees, and swoops in for a small peck before wiping his mouth and turning to his own ablutions.

The short exchange has actually settled Isak’s nerves, and it’s with a much lighter heart that he takes Even’s hand and leads him out of the kollektiv.  Eskild is hovering with an array of hair products, and looks very disappointed when they whistle past him and out the door. Isak thinks he hears some muttering about how  _ my baby gay should look after himself better, _ before Eskild’s voice fades out behind them.  He squeezes Even’s hand tighter, anxious to keep up the contact for as long as they can.  However, it’s not long before they have to drop the hands and pretend again to just be two guys who hang out sometimes.  It hurts to have to do this, but the memory of Even’s touch remains imprinted on Isak’s hand and Even’s smile, while strained as they get closer to school, remains in place.  It’s enough.

At least, it is until they push open the school door and the sound of hundreds of students crashes in on them.  Even stills in the doorway, his face going paler than ever. His breath is coming in short, aborted pants. His eyes flick over the crowd gathering in the hallway, and every time they land on someone they widen.  Isak can almost feel the panic building in Even as he takes in the way some stare back at him, clear speculation in their glances. None of the subtle gestures Isak tries to attract Even’s attention work, so in desperation, Isak laughs, trying to pull Even’s focus back to himself.  It’s a strained, stilted laugh, but it works. Even’s eyes flick up to Isak’s and his face relaxes slightly.

Isak’s hand is on the door and Even’s is so close that they’re practically touching.  It’s not enough, never is, but it’s something and Isak can see Even’s eyes flick in the direction of their hands and the corners of his mouth tilt in a small smile.  Even takes a deep breath and steps inside the hallway. His body relaxes a tiny bit more as the students around them turn away and go about their own business. Isak can see just how much effort it takes to do even that much, and he does what he can to help, trying to ease the situation with banter.

“Come on, old man.  You need to keep up,” Isak says, tilting his head and grinning at Even.  He laughs again, forces his body into a casual pose, tilts his head in challenge.  

“Fuck off,” Even says, playing along.  His voice is still a little wobbly but Even, too, is making his body obey, so their eyes are saying one thing and their bodies another.  “Don’t think I didn’t notice you wheezing when you had to walk more than ten minutes today.”

That irritates Isak; even in a situation like this, where Even’s comfort is paramount, he can’t help feeling resentful of that implication.  He wasn’t  _ wheezing! _ He was … just … maybe a little out of breath.  From not sleeping. That’s all.

“That wasn’t … I was … I had a drop that got stuck in my throat … and then my throat didn’t work properly.”

Even nods, grinning, and at least this is having the desired effect on Even’s nerves; he’s settled now, his attention fully on Isak.  “Mmmhmm,” Even says. “You keep telling yourself that.”

Isak starts walking backwards, aiming to draw Even back in to the school as casually as he can.  The implication that Isak isn’t up to the short walk they did is still irritating enough that Isak knows he’s being natural in his challenge, that no one on the outside looking in will be able to tell what’s really going on here.  He cocks his head, and knows he’s scowling as he shoots back. “Asshole. I’m the master of walking. After school we’re doing that again and I will beat you.”

“Okay, sure.”  Even nods, looking like he’s finding it hard to stop himself from laughing, the asshole.  “Whatever you say.”

Isak pushes him, but the outrage he’s affecting is completely fake now.  Instead, he’s filled with energy. The spot on Isak’s fingers where they connected with Even’s chest is heated, the small shove enough to send crackles of energy flying between them.  When Isak looks up his breath catches; there’s something in Even’s gaze that  _ wants. _  It’s lustful, desperate, and Isak can feel his heart stirring in response.  He can feel his own casual smile sliding off his face and the eager want crowding in behind it.  It’s good, welcome after so long. But it’s also really fucking inconvenient right now. They’ve just got to school, there’s a whole day between them and the relative peace of home.  Isak’s going to have to deal with a fucking boner by himself, or rather he’s going to have to will it into submission because he’s damn sure that  _ I need to visit the bathroom to jerk off _ isn’t going to work as an excuse.  As if to emphasize the point, the bell rings, shrill and intrusive in Isak’s ear.

“I’ll see you at break?” Isak asks as he turns to walk away and Even nods.  It’s one of the hardest things Isak has had to do, leaving Even while he’s feeling like this.  A mixture of uncomfortably turned on and desperately concerned for how Even is going to cope with this day and the knowledge that Isak himself has to face his own fears later.  But he does it, puts one foot in front of the other all the way down the hall and towards his first class. It’s one he shares with Jonas, who knocks his shoulder when Isak sits down but otherwise doesn’t mention how shit Isak knows he looks.  There are some days when Isak blesses the insight Jonas can provide (unlike the days when he curses the way he can read Isak like a book).

“You all good, bro?” Jonas asks.  Isak sighs as he pulls his books out.

“Yeah.  I’m going to see that school doctor today,” he says.  “I got an appointment and everything.” 

“That’s cool,” Jonas says.  The words are understated, but there’s a warmth of care in that voice that settles Isak more than he’d expected.  He knows Jonas wants this for him, knows that he’s been wondering if Isak would ever actually do something practical to sort himself out, but there’s no judgement here today.  Just a proud acceptance. It makes Isak smile and is enough to get him through the few hours before he has to go see her. He’s terrified, unsure how to go about talking to someone he doesn’t know about things he has trouble even articulating to himself.

The appointment, when it comes, is even more uncomfortable than Isak had feared.  He’s shaking as he waits outside the office, shoving his hands under his legs to try to keep them still.  It doesn’t work and Isak’s body thrums with unwanted energy. He casts surreptitious glances around the room, but no one is paying attention to him.  The only other student in the area looks pensive as she stares sadly out the door as if plotting her escape. The staff are completely uninterested in the students waiting, preferring to gossip among themselves, for which Isak is thankful.  He’s always hated the way people will try to affect a companionship they don’t really feel if they think you need support of some kind. His ability to just sit the fuck down and chill the fuck out without faking it was one of the first things that drew Isak to Even and even now it’s one of the qualities Isak most values in him.  Thinking of Even makes Isak squirm. He has managed to control his boner for most of the day, but it does still come back in awkward moments when he remembers Even’s eyes as they parted this morning. The deep blue had reflected such intense need that Isak can almost feel the weight of that gaze as a physical thing, even now so long after the moment.  It’s inconvenient, to say the least.

So, when his name is called and he enters the doctor’s room, it’s with a frustrated groan that Isak sees the large dick sitting to one side of her desk.  It’s such an incongruous sight that he can’t keep his eyes off it. It’s been a while since Isak saw a doctor, but in his memory he doesn’t think this sort of thing is exactly usual in these places.  

“Isak?” the doctor says, forcing his attention onto her.  She’s smiling, her head cocked to the side and her eyes alight.  Isak thinks she may have some awareness of what he’s thinking and (horrifyingly) possibly why.  He makes himself look at her and nods. “Okay, good,” she says. “It’s not good if I talk to someone else thinking he is Isak, hmmm?”

Baffled, Isak nods again.  Why would she talk to someone else as Isak?  It’s not like he advertised why he was coming here, though there  _ was _ that form he filled in with a lot of intrusive questions, like sleeping patterns and regularity of bowel movements.  Trying to shake off the questions he has about why she’d need to know all that stuff, Isak squints at her. “Um …” he says, “I think I … I need …”

“Mmmmm,” she agrees.  “You need.”

Isak squints in confusion.  No other doctor he has ever talked to was like this.  “You’re a doctor?” he asks and she chuckles.

“Yes, in a way.”  She turns to look at her computer, which unfortunately draws Isak’s eyes right back to her desk and the giant dick that’s just sitting there.  Though why it reminds him of Even, Isak is unsure. It’s not reminiscent of him at all, but Isak has dicks and boners on his brain and this is not exactly helping, and nor is the memory of Even’s eyes this morning as they parted.  “Okay Isak. You have a problem, hmmm?”

“Oh.”  he shakes himself, drags his attention back to her, and nods.  “Yes. I … uh … I can’t sleep very well. And I’m not sure I feel quite …”

He can’t bring himself to say it, to this bright person in her office filled with bright things and her giant, ostentatious dick.  How do you tell a stranger like this that you feel like you’re not worth anything, that other people are better than you and that this is what’s causing your sleeplessness?  She nods as if she gets it anyway.

“Mmmm, that’s shitty,” she says.  “Sleeping well is our most important job.  More important than studying or working, yes.”

Isak doesn’t quite know where she’s going with this, so he just nods and hums a quiet, “mmm,” as if in agreement.  She studies the form he filled in for a long moment, then nods.

“So Isak, your sleep pattern is very … hmmm … very unusual, and the reasons for it are all very scattered.  You agree?”

Isak nods, thinking  _ no shit; _ it’s not like he came here because he knew this or anything.  But his sour thoughts are interrupted by a burst of anxiety when she continues.  “I think you should talk to someone, someone who can sort out the worries in your head.  I can only give medication, I can’t help with all of that …” she waves her hand in his direction as if to sum up everything that Isak hadn’t said.

“Oh, no,” Isak says.  “I can’t do that.” He takes a deep breath, steels himself and looks at her.  “I’m not doing that.”

She sits back and examines him, and Isak is suddenly uncomfortably aware of his appearance.  He knows he’s sweaty and his clothes are rumpled and his hair a tangled mess. He regrets not letting Eskild play with it this morning because her gaze is uncomfortable and he feels … not exactly judged, but a little as if he’s been  _ seen _ .  He doesn’t want the meds she’s potentially offering, really, but there is some sense of relief there anyway.  But Isak definitely doesn’t want to talk to another new person; this was hard enough, and there’s some sense that this woman gets that in a way that’s deeply uncomfortable for someone who’s not used to being understood.

“You are an Outcast, Isak?”

“Yeah I am, but what’s …”

“It is even more important for an Outcast than for any other types to find people to talk to.  You understand?”

“No?”  Isak can’t figure out what she’s getting at.  Being an Outcast should have no bearing on his medical needs.

“Okay.  Let me tell you a little thing, Isak.  You’re okay with a story?”

“I’m …”

“Good,” she says, then leans forward as if trying to impress on Isak the import of what she’s about to say.  He stares at her, confusion warring with irritation in his body. “An Outcast is a person who can feel very much alone, if he’s not careful,” she says.  “It’s like there’s a connection he will want very much, but sometimes it’s hard for him to find it. You understand?”

“No,” Isak says, bewildered.  His eyes drift back towards the dick.  Its veins are so prominent he can’t help but think how painful it would be for the person who happened to be sporting it if it was real.  The doctor’s words are confusing, striking at the heart of something Isak hadn’t even been fully aware he’s been experiencing. Thinking about the giant dick is much less stressful than trying to apply the words to his own experiences.

“An Outcast  _ needs _ connection, Isak,” the doctor says gently, drawing his attention back off the dick.  “This is why he has a bonding system. If he doesn’t find a bond, or talk in some other way, he can run the risk of becoming very isolated and lonely and then cutting off everyone because he feels alone.”

“I don’t see what …”

“I have some medication you can try,” she says, abruptly and Isak blinks at the sudden subject change.  “But everyone needs other people, Isak. That’s the point. You should try to find more Outcasts.”

Isak grimaces.  He’s found other Outcasts, and it wasn’t exactly the best thing that happened to him.  The idea of finding more people like that, more people to sit with and put on fake smiles for, makes him cringe.  He’d rather be alone than deal with that, and the doctor notices.

“You don’t enjoy other Outcasts?” she asks.

“It’s not that,” he says, even though it kind of is that, at least with Emma and her friends.  “But the ones I know, they’re not … not really people I enjoy being with.” He shrugs. “Other people are better.”

“Okay.”  She nods.  “So forget the Outcasts, if that’s not working.  Maybe see if you can find connections with these better people, hmmm?”

“Mmmmm,” Isak says, taking the paper she’s holding out.  It’s not entirely clear if she knows what she’s talking about, since her advice has contradicted itself running from talking to a professional to other Outcasts until she’s ended up where he wants her to, with no Outcasts but tacit permission to connect with the people he  _ actually _ likes.  So it’s with a degree of uncertainty that he slips out the door clutching the paper (after enduring an agonizing speech about routines that he should also apply to his sleep habits, and the conditions under which he should take the pills).  That’s a place to start anyway, with the better people in his life. He has something he can try to help with the sleeping, and Isak finds himself actually looking forward to it. He’d told the boys he didn’t want pills, but it’s been so long since he actually slept well that he’s willing to try anything, even this new routine she insists he try as well.  Maybe if his sleep comes right, the rest will follow. 

And maybe, Isak thinks as he ponders her other words, maybe he should go back to researching the bonding.  If he can understand  _ that, _ maybe he can understand how to build one for himself.  And maybe he can figure out exactly what it is he has with Even, because the memory from this morning is burning back into his mind and Isak can’t help but wonder, again, if what he has with Even isn’t some variation on the Outcast bond.  From the beginning, it’s felt so special and so unique that Isak thinks it’s impossible that it’s not  _ something, _ even if he’s not sure what that something is.

Isak walks out of the school at the end of the day, exhausted but happy.  The meeting with the doctor was much less stressful in hindsight than he’d expected.  Despite the confusing nature of her words, Isak is feeling much more settled. It’s an almost zen-like relief to be told it’s okay to want to connect with the people he likes rather than having to find his own type (as horribly cliche as that all sounds).  So there’s a warmth and a joy Isak allows himself to experience as he spots Even in deep discussion with Jonas and the other boys. He pauses for a moment, affection welling up in his chest, causing a sort of painful pleasure as he watches his boyfriend with his friends.  Unfortunately as he gets closer, Isak can see the tension in Even, the strained quality of the smile that sits uneasily on his face.

He slips his hand briefly into place on Even’s back, pressing one small affirmation into his skin before he has to remove it to preserve the illusion of being friends rather than lovers. 

“Halla, guys,” he says as cheerfully as he can while looking around at the other boys.  Their faces are all filled with a mixture of guilt and shame, and none of them can meet Isak’s eyes.  He glances at Even, whose face has paled even further and who looks on the point of collapse, and he can feel the frown drawing his mouth down and the anger that pumps blood into his face.  He spins back to the other boys. “What’s the matter? What did you idiots do?”

“Oh … uh.  We …” Magnus begins, but he can’t keep it up.  He drops his eyes away from Isak’s and trails off as Jonas gives a repentant shrug.

“We might have been discussing types and Magnus might have been repeating gossip he heard about Even, and Even might have overheard it.”

Fury boils up in Isak.  He knows exactly why Even looks the way he does now and he can’t believe his asshole friends have caused this.  “We told you once before it’s not important for you to know.” Isak glares at the guys around him. “Why are you like this?”

Isak’s been doing a good job of keeping the fury tamped down to a manageable level, if he does say so himself, but when Magnus opens his mouth and Isak can see the way Even’s face blanches out of the corner of his eye, that’s all burned away.  He glares at his friend, and Magnus has the grace to look at least a little chastened. Isak lets his hand drift down Even’s arm; it’s all he can give him right now and not for the first time Isak is pissed at himself for being so damn scared that he can’t do this more openly.  How many times has Even needed support and Isak not been able to give it? How many times has Isak’s insecurity managed to affect Even’s peace and security? 

So it’s in a much harsher tone than he had intended that Isak snaps at the boys, “we’re going to go now.”  He tries to soften it when he adds, “see you tomorrow?” but he can see in the strained expressions on the boys’s faces that he hasn’t been successful.

Not that he really gives a shit if he sees any of them again, let alone tomorrow.  But Isak has enough preservation instinct left to know that he’s probably going to calm down and he’s probably going to want to still be friends with them.  So he drags what he can of a smile onto his face, and looks around at the others. They look suitably subdued and unhappy, so Isak nods and turns away. He doesn’t check to see if Even will come too; he knows he will. 

An hour or so later, Isak lies on his bed.  He has Even curled into his side, his head heavy on Isak’s shoulder, and Even’s legs pressing his own into the mattress.  It’s not particularly comfortable, but Isak had taken one look at Even’s face when they ended up in his room after school, and held his arms out.  Even had sunk into them with a sigh of relief that settled in Isak’s bones. For now, Even appears at ease. He’s humming, a soft contented little noise that vibrates through Isak, who realizes that he’s curling his fingers in Even’s hair in time with those hums.  It’s almost soporific, and Isak feels close to sleep despite the earlyish hour and the discomfort in his legs where Even’s are digging into him. So it’s with a voice that’s thick with approaching sleep that Isak starts questioning Even. He needs to be sure that Even’s okay after his run in with Isak’s asshole friends but he doesn’t want to make Even feel like shit again. So this seems like the most effective way of managing this, casually and on the point of sleep.  

“How do you feel about all that?  With the guys?” Isak asks, making sure he keeps sweeping his fingers through Even’s hair.  Up and back, up and back, keeping same slow pace to ground this moment. Even tenses, even with all the precautions Isak has taken, so Isak kisses his forehead.  It’s a small acknowledgement that Even has a right to be upset and unhappy. A vow that Isak is here and he will be on Even’s side. Even relaxes slightly, but frowns as he speaks.  The words come out on a sad little sigh that cuts to Isak’s heart. He wants to grab Even, pull him in and protect him, but he forces himself to keep up the same gentle motions in his hair.  Up and back, up and back.

“Scared,” Even says and Isak’s heart clenches at the word and the vulnerability in the tone.  Still, Even’s being open, and honest. And that’s a good thing that Isak isn’t about to jeopardize with any sudden motions of his own, so he keeps playing with Even’s hair and revels in the way he slowly relaxes more even while he’s explaining his feelings.  “Nervous, worrying that they’ll be angry or upset. Thinking how it could get out more. Wondering where the rumours came from.”

Isak nods; he gets it.  It’s often hard when so many things are swirling and all of them have equal validity.  These may be alien to Isak, these specifics, but there’s a definite correlation to the ways Isak feels about being outed.  To the fear that clutches at him whenever he lets himself think about it too hard, even while he’s so angry at himself for not being braver.  “That’s a lot,” he says, smiling as Even huffs out a small surprised-sounding laugh. 

“Yeah,” Even agrees.  “It is.”

“It’s not making you feel … you know?”

“No, it’s not making me feel any of that stuff,” Even says, and Isak breathes an internal sigh of relief.  It’s not that he doesn’t think Even would tell him when he’s falling into his beastliness, but he wants to be sure his boyfriend is okay.  That’s he’s not been harmed by Isak’s dickhead friends, that all this isn’t sending him back into any of the spirals he’s worked so hard to get out of.  “Just a bit …” Even continues, waving his hand around, clearly indicating a sense of agitation in the stuttering motions. Isak smiles, encouraging. He likes it when Even opens up to him; it reminds him that here in this place they are together and can be truthful without judgement.  It helps, when Isak thinks of all the things he needs to talk about too. “A bit anxious I guess.” Even says the last words on another sigh, but this one looks lighter, as if he’s allowed some hidden poison to leach out of his bones and into the air. He catches Isak’s eyes as he says, “but it’s okay.  I’m okay.”

It hits Isak hard, that gaze.  The way Even’s blue eyes are so intensely focused on his own.  The way he leans into the hand that Isak has allowed to move down to Even’s neck.  The way he presses into Isak’s grip. Isak sucks in a shuddering breath, electricity starting to snap between them as the gaze lengthens and Even’s expression turns more deliberate.  The tension that had flowed at school this morning is back, deeper than ever now that they’re alone and can allow it to build.

“I’m glad,” Isak whispers, and he can hear the desperation in his voice as he tries to keep it steady in the face of that flickering desire.  “It’s nice when you’re happy and I don’t want some assholes to ruin that. Even if they are my friends.”

“Believe me, baby,” Even says, leaning forward to kiss Isak, “they’re not ruining anything.”  The kiss lingers as Even presses the words onto Isak’s lips as if he’s trying to make Isak believe them with the sheer force of his will.

Almost like he can hear Isak’s thoughts, Even moves.  He lies down in a way that allows him to use one hand to trail his fingers along Isak’s jaw.  Fire runs in their wake, and Isak shivers as those fingers light him up. By the time Even stops in the middle of his bottom lip, Isak can’t help himself.  His own lips have dropped open and he can feel the way his body is reacting to Even’s. The heat firing in his chest, the want pouring into his face.

Even licks his lips and Isak almost groans with how much the sight makes him feel.  As if drawn by the thought, Even does groan, a guttural moan that seems more dragged out of him than something he’s doing consciously.  Then he’s kissing Isak and there’s clear intent in every movement of his lips over Isak’s. Their bodies move on instinct, reconnecting in a way that had been so very natural just a few short weeks ago but is now something new and exciting again.  Isak’s skin flames everywhere Even’s fingers are touching him and it’s like a dam has burst. Lips chase after each other, legs wrap as tightly together as they can get, fingers clutch in shirts, desperate to keep each other close. 

It’s so much that it’s not long before they have to pull back.  Isak is restless, his body pushing against Even’s, asking for what it’s been missing for so long.  Their foreheads are still pressed together and Isak can feel the whisper of Even’s breath on his overheated skin, soft puffs that leave cool trails through the flames.

He can hear the pants as they lie together, tries to force his attention onto the connection of their foreheads rather than the almost overwhelming heat in his body.  Even slides his hand under Isak’s t-shirt and the glancing dance of Even’s fingers over his sensitive skin makes him gasp. Then Even pushes the shirt slowly up Isak’s chest and it’s obvious where this is going.  It’s been so long since Isak did anything other than miserably jerk off in the bathroom when Even was asleep that it’s almost too intense, even just this. He can’t keep the noises inside; the feeling of Even’s fingers on him is too good, too much for Isak to keep his voice under control.  As if spurred on by Isak, Even soon starts pressing his hips against Isak’s leg, his want just as clearly obvious as Isak’s. They rub together, dicks just not quite touching through the layers of clothes and slightly awkward position, until Even eventually sits up a little, smiling down at Isak with such heartstopping affection that Isak can’t help but let out another shuddering gasp.

To cover, he laughs, and says, “too many shirts.”  The laugh morphs into a blissful sigh when Even lets his fingers run across one of Isak’s nipples, making it pebble in the cool air under Even’s fiery touch.   Then Even obligingly removes Isak’s shirt and pulls his own over his head. He’s gorgeous like that, towering over Isak with his chest flushed with desire and his hair already mussed where Isak’s fingers have been ruthless as they kissed.  Isak can see the way Even’s eyes gleam as they roam his body, and it’s so much. For so long, Even has been caught in his own head, unsure of himself and uninterested in sex. That he’s here now and looking at Isak in this way makes him choke up a little.  The fears that have swarmed around Isak regarding Even never wanting him again are gone and the relief left in their wake is so all encompassing that he can’t quite separate all the emotions. So what he lands on is amused affection when he catches Even’s slightly sheepish look once he finally brings his gaze to Isak’s face.

“Enjoying the view?” he asks, falling into teasing, because teasing is easier to deal with than the cascade of emotion unleashed by Even’s frank and admiring stare.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Even says.  “How are you even here?”

“I’ll always be here, baby.”  Isak smiles, letting it grow on his face and fascinated by the way it makes Even’s mouth drop open and his eyes glaze.  “Now,” he says to lighten to mood more and make this more comfortable in the wake of the intensity of that stare, “are you going to get rid of these pants or are we just going to have a staring competition?”

“Well, now that you mention it, a staring competition sounds amazing,” Even says and he sounds so serious as he sits back on the bed and gives Isak a challenging look that Isak has to slap him gently.

“Fuck you, asshole.”

Even grins and starts working on the button of Isak’s jeans.  They’re soon off, along with Even’s, and both of them are now in just their boxers.  Even lies back down on top of Isak, his body pressing steadiness into Isak’s shaking bones, and this time it’s so much better because this time their hard dicks are pressed together as they kiss again.

“Can I blow you?” Even asks, and Isak shivers at those words.  The memory of last time, of the way he lost control and Even made it clear he loved it, resurfaces along with the insecurities of that day.   Here’s proof, though, if Isak needed it, that Even really did enjoy that. He nods when Even says, “I really really want you to come in my mouth again.” 

Then Even slips Isak’s boxers off, and he groans when his dick is released, only now recognizing the intensity of the pressure that has been building.  If he’s not careful, it’s not going to take much for Isak to come. Even groans too, his voice so wrecked as he does so that it does even worse things to Isak’s composure.  Then Even’s tongue is on Isak’s dick and it’s already too much. Even licks and Isak moans, the sound ripped out of him. It’s so strange that he went years without sex at all, and yet now after just a few short weeks without, it feels like he’s been starving forever and could explode at just one touch.  

Then Even’s mouth has surrounded his dick and Isak loses all access to rational thought.  He lets out a babbled stream of nonsense, though Isak’s fairly sure there are several ‘fucks’ and probably a few instances of Even’s name.  Either way, Even responds by slowing down, the asshole. While he sucks, his tongue runs along Isak’s shaft, coming tantalizingly close to the point he knows makes Isak completely pliant in his hands.  It’s all Isak can do to keep his hips from thrusting hard trying to get Even to the damn point. It’s amusing Even, if the way his eyes glint as he makes eye contact with Isak every now and then is anything to go by.  

Isak’s frustrated grumbles must get more irritated; either that or Even finally decides to relent or gets impatient himself.  Because suddenly he has Isak’s dick in his hand and his tongue is pressing over and over into and around that one spot that makes Isak melt.  His other hand is firm on Isak’s hip, lending him stability in the maelstrom that’s raging and holding him still while Even’s tongue continues its onslaught.  It’s so much after such a long time without this, that Isak can’t help himself. His body tautens, tightening and tensing as his orgasm approaches. His hands twist tight in the sheets, the slight pain in his knuckles as they clutch tight also helping to ground Isak enough that he doesn’t let go immediately.

As if Even can sense how close Isak is, he takes him into his mouth again.  His hand keeps up it’s stroke and just that small movement is enough to tip Isak over the edge.  Even sucks hard, one more time, swallowing the last drops as Isak shudders. He’s oversensitive, his skin rippling everywhere Even touches him and it’s almost too much.  But then Even is kissing him. It’s a kiss that blisters with affection and Isak is helpless in its power. It feels like Even is saying something more than ‘thanks for the sex after so long’ and Isak’s body responds, molding itself to Even’s, wanting only to drown in this feeling.  He lets his fingers tangle in Even’s hair as he pulls him closer, needing to revel in this feeling for as long as he can.

Then he feels the telltale press of Even’s dick on his thigh, and smiles his way out of the kiss.

“Your turn,” he says as he pulls back far enough that he can see Even.  He looks wrecked, his cheeks flushed with the kisses they’ve just shared and his eyes desperate for  _ something. _

“You don’t have to--” Even tries, but Isak can hear the plea behind the words.

“I want to,” Isak says with his hands already on the waistband of Even’s boxers.  It’s almost funny that Even is still partly clothed, testament to how fast and how desperate they had been to get Isak to climax.  Recognizing what Isak is asking, Even nods, and then Isak has the boxers down and pushes Even onto his back. He’s suddenly desperate himself.  He needs to get his hands onto Even. He drags the boxers completely off. It leaves Even looking stunned and his eyes glazed in a way Isak knows.  That look has always said Even’s really into something so Isak’s preening internally that he’s still  _ got it _ , that Even is just as into this as Isak is, when Even laughs.

“You’re in that much of a hurry, baby?”

“You have no idea.”

Isak kisses his way down Even’s body.  He wants to take his time, linger, make Even whimper the way Isak was just a few short minutes ago, but he can’t.  It’s all frantic desperation and immediate need. It’s probably too soon, not enough teasing or preparation, when Isak takes Even into his mouth.  But he’s moving on instinct now. It’s sloppy and it’s hesitant because it’s been too long and Isak has already lost the rhythm of how to do this. But Even is moaning anyway, and the noises he’s making are shooting right through Isak.  He may have just come, but it’s impossible to remain unaffected by the tone of those whimpers.

Isak’s so focused on what he’s doing that it takes a moment or two before he realizes that Even is scrabbling his fingers in Isak’s hair, not to be sexy but to indicate that he’s close.  Isak chances a look up the long length of Even’s body, gleaming with a soft sheen of sweat, and take in the plea sitting in Even’s eyes. He grins, one hand still grasping the bottom of Even’s dick while his mouth stays stretched around the tip, and apparently that really does it for Even because there’s a sudden burst of saltiness in Isak’s mouth, and a bitter liquid is hitting the back of his throat.  It’s all he can do to close his mouth and swallow as much as he can. It’s an unfamiliar sensation and Isak can’t quite take it all, letting Even slip out just as he’s finishing. The taste is a shock, too. It’s much deeper, somehow, more bitter than the small bursts Isak gets when tasting pre-come. He swallows it; it’s not unpleasant but it’s not something he’s putting on his list of favorite flavors either.  

Still, watching Even in the aftermath makes it all worthwhile.  He’s breathing hard, his eyes closed and his hair even more mussed than it was before, because apparently he’s been running his own hands through it trying to keep himself together while Isak worked.  The mere thought makes Isak pur in satisfaction, but he drags the emotion back inside; It was pulling too much of his attention away from Even. His eyes finally flutter open just as Isak is lying himself down, snuggling in as close as he can get to Even’s body, which is still warm and pliant under Isak’s fingers.

Even pulls Isak in, his arm snug around his shoulders, radiating a pleasant warmth.  As amazing as this has been, and as into it as Even seemed, Isak is still wondering if he maybe pushed Even too hard and too fast.  He’s aware that being celibate has been something of a torture for Isak over the last week or so, but that sex hasn’t been something Even has wanted.  So Isak hums, trying to gain the courage to ask the question he knows he has to. Even’s fingers rub encouraging circles on Isak’s shoulder, and it’s enough to loosen Isak’s tongue.  

“How are you feeling?” he asks, tilting his head so he can look up into Even’s eyes.  He needs to know this, to see and be sure that whatever comes out of Even’s mouth isn’t masking something, or trying to protect Isak’s feelings.  To his relief, when Even speaks, his voice is vibrant and happy and there’s no cloud hidden in the crinkles of his eyes.

“I’m good … fucking great.  That was amazing.”

“Yeah,” Isak says, settling down again, allowing himself to revel in that relief and in the sated feelings still relaxing his body.  “It was.” He rests his chin on Even’s chest and sighs, feeling content. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“So am I,” Even says, and Isak can feel the kiss as Even brushes his lips over his hair.  It makes him smile as he drowsily lets himself slip towards sleep. He can feel it stronger today, the bond he’s wondering about developing.  In some ways Even’s illness has given Isak a much deeper clarity of focus. The bond has appeared to be developing since the first moment Isak suspected it, but it’s only now that Even is so thoroughly present again that he can see the possibility so clearly.  That connection they always had, the speed of their commitment to each other, they’re both signs that Isak had tried to push aside. But he can’t deny it now; the washed out, pale friendship he’d forged with Emma and her friends is so far from this that Isak almost snorts at the idea he’d ever considered there might be something there.  It should scare him, being this dependent on someone else (particularly in light of Eskild’s continued warnings), but it’s Even and if this is the bond, it’s a warm, comforting blanket. When Isak had imagined the way this would work, this was never how he’d pictured it. But now he thinks he really might have it, he knows it could never have been any other way.  It really is time that Isak looks into this again.

Happy, he allows himself to drift into sleep, wrapped up in Even’s arms and surrounded by his scent.  It’s enough. It’s everything.


	10. Chapter 10

Morning sunlight is beaming into the room when Isak blinks awake. Or, Isak realizes when he checks his phone, it’s really only _technically_ morning now; the time has ticked so close to noon that it makes little difference.  Isak stretches, his back clicking in a satisfying way as he groans his way back into wakefulness.  It’s been a long time since he slept like this and he actually feels refreshed. The only problem from Isak’s point of view is that Even is missing.  His scent still lingers on the pillow next to Isak but his body is nowhere in sight. Even’s body, which Isak has been slowly getting used to again over the last week, and for which his own is humming in anticipation of a long, slow morning together.  So it’s something of a disappointment when Even doesn’t immediately return and Isak has to slip out of bed and make his way through the apartment to the kitchen.

The disappointment disappears when Isak pauses in the doorway to see Even hunched over the stove top, with a pan of eggs bubbling and a delicious aroma filling the small space.  Isak’s stomach rumbles, loud in the stillness of the room. Even doesn’t hear; he’s humming, a soft melody that whispers through the room and curls around Isak’s heart. It’s so _nice_ to see Even like this, awake and energetic.  Isak doesn’t think he’ll ever take this for granted again.  He moves forward, allows his arm to circle Even’s waist, presses a kiss to his cheek.  Even turns to smile at him, leans in for a kiss and Isak hums happily into the moment.

“Oh, this is nice,” a voice says, shattering the still calm.  Isak laughs, irritated at the interruption, but incapable of being truly annoyed when Even’s right here and so damn happy.

“What do you want, Eskild?” Isak asks, twisting a little so he can see Eskild and smiling as his hand drifts across the dip of Even’s back.  Even’s skin shivers in its wake and Isak can’t help the heady sense of joy he gets from knowing he can have that effect. That it’s returning, this connection of bodies they have, and that all his fears had been groundless.

“That’s not a way to speak to your guru, Baby Gay.”

Isak rolls his eyes.  He lets his hand caress Even’s arm, giving it a squeeze before reluctantly heading to the table and sitting down.  

“What is ‘nice’?” Isak asks, very deliberately glaring at Eskild who nods towards Even with a grin.

“This.  Even. The food.”  He moves over to Even and leans over the pan, inhaling deeply.  His eyes are sparkling when he stands up again. “I’ve missed your food so much, Even.  You have no idea how we’ve suffered with Isak cooking.”

“Fuck off, Eskild.  I’m a fucking great cook,”  Isak growls. He smiles at Even though, still incapable of seeing him grinning at the banter and not letting his own joy seep into their interactions.  “Maybe not as good at this creative shit as you are. But,” he says, turning back to Eskild, the soppy grin he wore for Even fading and a dangerous glare taking its place, “I’m the master at recipes.   And it tastes amazing.”

“You should stop being so jealous, Isak,” Eskild says, making Isak groan.  “Learn to accept that we can love other people too.”

Isak glowers, irritated again.  It’s not jealousy, exactly, but it’s always annoyed Isak when people assume he’s incapable of doing things for himself.  Being the youngest in this flat has resulted in a lot of assumptions about his capabilities, and he often wants to stamp his feet and yell about how he looked after his own goddam mama, for god’s sake.  Which is maybe not the most mature reaction, but it’s just so damn _frustrating._  He’s about to argue, to take this opportunity to defend himself against Eskild’s words, but Even cuts in instead.

“Baby, don’t you worry,” Even says now.  “I love your cooking, and you make the best soup.”

He kisses Isak on the cheek, and Isak leans into it, enjoying the sensation.  He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to this, to the way Even makes him feel with something as simple as a kiss.

“See,” Isak says pointedly, smirking at Eskild, the aggression he’d felt just moments ago lost in the haze of being with Even.  “The master.”

From there it all descends into good natured banter, Even’s amazing eggs being consumed at breakneck pace, and Eskild managing to thoroughly embarrass Isak once again with his insinuations about what they get up to in the private (or apparently not-all-that-private) confines of Isak’s room.  And okay, Isak’s willing to admit that he’s been _really_ enjoying having Even’s sex drive online again, so to speak.   There haven’t been many attempts this week, not with school and sleep still being an issue, but it’s been a non-zero amount, for which Isak is very very grateful.  Except, every time Eskild reminds him with a suggestive comment just how much he can hear … well, Isak doesn’t like to _think_ about that at all.

When they do return to Isak’s bedroom, then, it’s not that Isak doesn’t want to touch Even.  It’s just that the knowledge that Eskild is out there in the kitchen right now (playing his obnoxious music really loud just to drown them out) makes Isak squirm with embarrassment and kills literally all of the sexy feelings that had built as he sat with his thigh pressed to Even’s under the too-small table.  So instead he climbs up on the bed and lets himself lie, wrapped up in Even’s arms, as they talk. It’s mostly meaningless, just the usual way they connect whenever they’re alone together, making small comments and observations on the day so far. But there are some brief moments where Isak feels free enough to be open.

“I need to see Mamma again,” he says eventually.  The mere thought makes his body tighten in its customary fight or flight response to the idea of her, and Even notices immediately.  His fingers, which have been running in gentle caresses up and down Isak’s shoulder, press more firmly as Even pulls Isak into a close hug.  Isak goes willingly, allows his body to move so he’s lying almost on top of Even and his head rests on Even’s chest.

“You don’t want to?” Even asks once it becomes clear to him that Isak is reluctant to say more, and Isak shrugs.

“She’s … a little … moody sometimes,” Isak says, drawing the words out, trying to navigate carefully how to put this so it doesn’t upset Even.  “And I never know how to act when I’m there.” He sighs. “And now that there’s you, well … I’m scared.”

Even tenses at that, his arms tighten again for a brief moment and Isak exhales, feeling exhausted by the idea of going to his old home again.  

“You’re scared?” Even prompts, the wobble almost unnoticeable in his voice.

“Mmmm,” Isak says.  “She’s … not very accepting.  Not being in archetype would be bad enough, but being with a boy …”

“Okay,” Even says, and the wobble is gone now, replaced with a deep understanding.  “It’s okay to be scared.”

Isak smiles at that.  Even’s one of the bravest people Isak knows; he always faces his fears and never lets them show until the aftermath.  It’s always been a privilege for Isak to see those fears when they surface because he knows Even likes to keep them hidden behind his exuberant exterior.  To be the one that gets to see inside him like that feels special, makes him feel like that bond they have is real and strong.

“I just don’t want her to hate me,” Isak says, and he’s horrified to hear the smallness of his voice, and the vulnerability.  “My dad is bad enough.”

“Baby,” Even says and there’s so much affection in that voice that Isak almost can’t bear it.  “She won’t hate you. I promise. She may find it all a bit scary herself, but I can tell she loves you.  That’s not going to change.”

“You can’t know that,” Isak says.  “It happens all the time, people being dicks when they find out this sort of thing.”

“I know _you,_ and I know any parent would have to be blind not to love you.”

Isak laughs, allows himself to be drawn out of his fear.  Lets Even soothe him in this way. “You’re an idiot.”

“I’m your idiot.”

“Yeah you are.”

Isak wriggles until he can kiss Even.  Eskild be damned; he’s going to kiss Even if he wants to, and he really, really wants to right now. Even’s empathy and generosity is so amazing.  Isak doesn’t feel like he deserves the care Even showers on him, but he loves it all the same. There’s something so powerful for Isak in being cared for in this way.  He’d thought once before that he’d never really felt seen or understood until Even came along. That’s still true. Others may be sneaking in and starting to see past the layers Isak built up over years, but Even managed to get right inside from the very start, before Isak could throw any walls up.  That’s never really changed, and it only takes a few words from Even for Isak to feel like he can do or achieve anything. Isak’s more sure than ever now that this really is the bond, but he still needs to do some more research. Because he’s also acutely aware that he’s falling in love and it could be that, too.  Non-Outcasts fall in love, after all, and before he broaches the possibility with Even, Isak has to be completely sure what is happening.

“Thank you,” he whispers as he pulls back.  “You’re good people.”

Even laughs, clearly remembering the last time they said those words.  “So are you,” he says, then kisses Isak again and all thought of Mamma and the worry is gone for the moment.  Kissing Even, snuggling with him, helps Isak focus. Even’s right. Isak will just have to trust that his mother, when she finds out, won’t react badly.  And if she does, Isak will just have to deal with it. He has Even, and his support. Mamma will just have to cope with things however she does. Not that Isak’s going to rush to tell her, but there are too many people who know now for Isak to be certain he can keep it secret.  No. It’s going to come, telling her, and he needs to prepare. But hopefully it won’t come any time soon, and hopefully even when it does all Isak’s fears will be groundless.

 

In amongst the stresses Isak is feeling, he can’t help but notice that Even is finding things difficult too.  He puts on a brave face, grinning whenever they approach the school and making seemingly-effortless small talk with the random people they might meet around.  But Isak can see the fear simmering underneath it. Even’s eyes flick over every room as soon as they enter, and his body is filled with a tension that never seems to leave it during the school day.  Isak does what he can, lets his fingers run casual lines down Even’s arm, smiles at him, makes as many dreadful jokes as he can to make Even laugh. Sometimes those things work a little, but others Even stays as tense as always.  Even’s eyes still work every room whether he relaxes or not, assessing everyone in it and he’s only truly at ease when he’s in Isak’s bed. It worries Isak. Enough that he doesn’t even focus on his own fears about his mother, even though she’s still sending him more and more pointed texts and he’s getting more and more anxious at the idea of going to see her.

“Baby?” Isak asks, after school one afternoon when he can’t bear the haunted look in Even’s eyes anymore and has to say _something._  “Are you okay?”

Isak squints at him, watches as he shrugs, as the uncomfortable tension that is Even’s almost constant companion sets up camp in his body again.  Isak squares his jaw, gets ready to protect Even from the world, and from himself if he needs to. It’s hard to watch the way Even’s eyes widen at the way Isak’s body takes on that stance, as if he’s worried that Isak is going to turn on _him._  So Isak tries to reassure Even in whatever way he can.  

“You should, maybe, talk to someone,” Isak says, trying to push his own tension down, because he doesn’t want to add to Even’s anxiety right now.  He’s not going to do Even any good if Even can see the true extent of the worry Isak is carrying for him. He’s not oblivious to how much Even has been beating himself up about the amount of things Isak had to do for him while he was sick.  Still, there’s an importance here, an awareness that Isak is finding hard to keep under control. He wants Even to find some peace and he can’t think of many other ways to do it than this. Not given the other issues Even faces, anyway. Isak recognises the irony that he’s suggesting to Even that he should do something he avoided for himself for so long.  But he also knows that it _had_ helped him, and that he should probably have gone to see the doctor earlier.  He also knows Even has experience with this and it has helped in the past.

“I already talk to my therapist,” Even says, echoing that thought, but his face is twisting the way it always does when he thinks about her.  

Isak snorts.  “She’s fucking shit, though,” he says.

Even laughs, a cheerful, startled thing that makes Isak grin in his turn.  “Yeah, she kind of is.”

“I mean, maybe find someone else.  Someone not-shit.”

Even chuckles again, and nudges Isak’s shoulder with his own.

“Someone not-shit?  That’s a nice job description.  Wanted: new therapist; must be not-shit.”

Isak grins, happy that Even is relaxed enough to joke about this.  He had been worried that this might make things worse, but Even seems open to this conversation which allows Isak to breathe more easily again.  “Well, why not?” he says. “If she’s not working for you, why not find someone else?”

He watches as that sinks in, as Even stills and contemplates that idea.  It’s something Isak loves about Even: his ability to reassess things, even ones that he’s held as truths for a long time.  Even is the sort of person who can be completely open to so many new thoughts and ideas but others can become so ingrained that he can’t see them as anything but certain reality.  It’s moments like these, though, moments when Even actually stops and considers one of those seemingly self-evident ideas and questions them, that Isak falls even deeper into his love.  It’s so amazing to Isak that Even can do this so openly and lay his whole heart on the line.

“You might be right,” Even says after a few moments of thought.  “Why _not_ find someone new?”

After that it’s easy.  They discuss it a little more and Isak suggests the school doctor as a place to start even though she’s a little odd.  By the end of the conversation, Even seems settled and a lot more relaxed. He’s so motivated that he makes an appointment for two days later, and Isak prowls outside while Even’s in talking to the doctor.  He doesn’t want to admit it, but he feels a bit of responsibility for getting Even to do this, so he wants it to go well. He walks so much, covers so much ground counting every step as he does so, that he’s actually panting by the time Even emerges.

“Did you actually run?” Even asks, grinning over at him.  That grin relaxes Isak’s nerves a little. It can’t have been too bad if Even’s this happy now.

Isak shakes his head, unwilling to admit to the anxious movements.  “No. I walked very fast. I’m the master of walking, remember.”

Even reaches out a hand and runs it down Isak’s arm, and presses his fingertips to Isak’s when the brushing fingers reach his hand.  They walk, and Isak can feel his body thrumming with energy at the proximity of Even’s. It’s getting more and more unbearable to be so close and unable to touch him properly.

“How’d it go?” Isak asks when they get far enough away that no-one overhearing will know what he’s asking about.

“Good, it was good.  She’s a bit odd, but I think she might be onto something.”

Isak laughs.  “She’s fucking weird, but she says some things that shouldn’t make sense but they do.”

“She said what you did,” Even says, crinkling his eyes at Isak.  “That I should get a new therapist who’s not-shit.”

“She said not-shit?”

“No, you dork.  You’re the only one who comes up with crap like that.”  Isak glares at him, and Even grins. “But that’s what she meant.  And she also said something about doors and parts of who we are or some shit, but it was basically about getting someone not-shit.”

“Yessss!” Isak crows, raising his hand in triumph.  “I’m so wise.”

Even stops and pulls Isak around to face him.  The look in his eyes takes Isak’s breath away and he feels himself blushing when Even says, “you are; you’re the wisest person I know.  The best person I know.”

Isak can’t keep the soft, happy feeling off his face; he can see it in Even’s own expression as he looks at him.  And there’s something inevitable in the kiss they share. It’s public and a risk, but neither of them is worried about that.  There’s a need to be close, to express their joy in each other. It lasts a fraction of a second and yet it sets fire through Isak’s body and he _wants._  Wants Even, wants to touch him and kiss him, wants to snuggle him, wants it all.  Tension thrums through him and he can feel the same energy from Even’s body and see it in his eyes.  

They rush, then, to the kollektiv and into Isak’s room.  There’s no-one else home, for which Isak is thankful as he wants to get Even naked and pliant as soon as he can.  But there’s one thing holding him back, one thing in the way of Isak being able to be totally at ease right now. It’s something that’s weighed on his mind on and off ever since they first talked about it, but which took a back seat while Isak was so worried about Even during his episode.  But now it’s creeping back in, and is putting a damper on their sex life as Isak lets it take up more and more space in his head.

By the time they reach his bedroom, Isak is decided.  He has to do it, he realizes, has to talk to Even. He can’t keep thinking and questioning and wondering.  He can’t go on thinking the way he does, that the very idea of sex with Isak is off-putting to Even. Intellectually, Isak knows that’s bullshit.  He knows, and his body certainly knows too, that Even is attracted to him, that he enjoys the things they do. But … he’d reacted badly the time Isak brought up having Even’s dick in him, and he’s always avoided any mention of the idea since then.  So Isak can’t help but wonder _why,_ what it is about him that makes Even not want to do that.  He leans back against the door, watching Even as he makes his way to the bed.  There’s an eagerness in the body language, a _want_ and a desire.  It’s clear that Even is into this, as far as that goes.  Even sits on the bed, and he’s avoiding Isak’s eyes, staring at the floor as if it contains all the answers to everything he’s ever wanted to know.  That kind of hurts, and Isak can’t take it anymore.

“Even?” Isak asks, and infuriatingly he can hear the wobble and tension in his voice.  It hits Even too, if the way his head lifts and his eyes snap to Isak’s is anything to go by.  It’s a lot harder than Isak hd expected to bring this up, so now he’s the one who can’t hold that gaze.  He’s the one who drops his eyes and focuses on his fingers which are drumming some stupid song beat onto Isak’s jeans.

“Mmm?” Even asks, with his own wobble sitting behind the cool facade.  It makes Isak cringe. He’s upsetting Even now too. But he’s started now and there’s no way out but through.  So he walks to Even and sits beside him. Maybe this won’t be as hard to do if Isak can feel the body beside him.  It’s hard though, and Isak can’t relax, his own body stiff and ill at ease next to Even. Isak knows what he wants to hear right now, and he knows what Even will probably say.  Likely all the right things, but the problem is that there’s a chance that it’s not going to go well, and Isak’s not sure how he’s going to deal with _that_ if it comes.     

“I … uh.  I wanted to ask you something.”

“Baby, you can ask me anything.  You know that, right?”

Isak takes a deep breath and nods.  He does know that. This shouldn’t be this hard.  It’s _Even,_ for fuck’s sake.  Even, who has always been able to anticipate Isak’s needs before he even really knows them himself.  Even, who’s tried to give Isak everything and never once tried to upset or hurt him. So, Isak lets the breath out slowly and forces himself to look up so he can see Even.  The look in his eyes is pure compassion; he wants to make this easier for Isak. That much is clear, but it’s also clear that he has no idea how to do that. So Isak finally just blurts it out, trying to drive that look of confused fear off Even’s face.

“Why won’t you have sex with me?”

Even laughs.  It’s one small puff, and even though Isak can tell it’s a laugh of disbelief it still cuts him.  Hot, pained shame races through him and he flinches. Something of his feelings must show on his face, because Even takes his hands.  They’ve somehow started to move of their own accord, flailing around until Even stills them.

“We … we do have sex?  Like, a lot?” There’s confusion in that voice, but it also seems like there’s a hint of amusement and Isak can’t stand it.  This isn’t easy for him to ask, and Even’s fucking laughing at him? Isak huffs and rolls his eyes as irritation seeps into his voice.

“I know that.  Don’t be an asshole.  You _know_ what I mean.”

“First of all, baby, that’s not the only way to have sex.  You know that, right?”

And that’s enough to really stab angry pain into Isak.  It feels like he’s being lectured like a child who’s too dumb to know this shit.  He does know it. It’s just … he wants to try something else. And Even must know what Isak means (it’s not that hard to figure out, after all) and it feels in the shame of this moment like Even’s deliberately pretending to misunderstand for some reason, probably because he doesn’t want this … maybe doesn’t really want Isak after all.  To his horror, Isak can feel the tears coming. This is stupid. He’s never been an emotional person, has always prided himself on being cool and collected. The one who gave out shit but didn’t get it back because no-one could get him to react. And yet here he is, crying because some asshole won’t stick his dick in him.

“Fuck you.  I just wanted …”

“I’m scared.  Fucking terrified of being the Beast and hurting you.”

Even’s words cut through Isak’s, bringing him up short.  And this … is not at all what Isak had been expecting. Even’s hands are shaking and he looks pale.  His eyes are haunted and anxious and it’s clear that this is the truth.

“You’re scared …”

Even nods.  “So fucking scared.  I don’t know if you know much about the way it is for Beasts during sex.”

And he doesn’t, Isak realizes, not really.  Just what they already do, so he says as much and Even grimaces.  He’s looking away again, as if he can’t quite bring himself to say this to Isak’s face.

“Well …” Even says in a tired voice, one which speaks of holding this inside of him for a very long time.  Speaks of the shame Even’s being carrying around with this thought “Well, we … uh, we get really aggressive.  The Beauties, they like it … uh … heavy. Rough, I guess. They like to be dominated and we … we tend to get very aggressive.”

That baffles Isak and he blinks, trying to figure that one out.  Even gets aggressive? Even, who is, and has always been, the most gentle, caring soul Isak has ever met?   _That_ Even is somehow turned into an aggressive asshole during sex?

 _“You_ get aggressive?” he asks, trying to get confirmation of this counterintuitive thought when he still can’t process it after several long moments.

“Yeah.  I do. I hate it, but the instinct kicks in and I kind of do.  Not as much as some Beasts, but it’s not … it’s not very loving.”

“But … you just said what we already do is sex.”

Even stills again, and his eyes take on that considering look he often does.  He’s open, then, to what Isak is saying. That’s enough to relax him and allow him to hear Even out.

“I … yeah,” Even acknowledges.  “Yeah it is.”

“You’ve never been aggressive.  Ever.”

That’s such a self evident thing to Isak.  Even is caring, sweet, kind. Never once has he pushed Isak.  Never once when they’ve been together sexually has he ever done something without checking carefully first that Isak is okay with what they’re doing.  He’s loving and romantic. ‘Aggressive’ is not even close to a word Isak would ever use to describe him.

“I’m just worried it’ll be different,” Even says, and the fear in his voice is palpable.

Isak allows himself to consider that.  His first instinct is to protest, to deny the validity of that idea because it _seems_ so ridiculous, but he knows that’s not going to help here and he gives Even the courtesy of truly examining what he’s said and how he’s feeling.  What Isak needs right now is science, because science always calms him when he’s feeling anxious in this sort of way. With a scientific explanation, Isak can make everything make sense and feel more in control, and if he can give Even even a small part of what he gets in those moments then Isak will be happy.

“Why would it be different?” Isak asks, and Even opens his mouth to speak.  Isak shushes him with one hand; he can’t let Even interrupt his train of thought right now.  Despite the fact that Isak had asked a question, it was really meant for himself rather than Even.  “It’s about hormones and release, right? Well, probably.” He stops for a few seconds, considering, trying to make his way through this idea, then nods in satisfaction.  It’s a good theory. “I think we can assume that; it’s a good working hypothesis anyway. So, if that’s the case then you’ve had a lot of hormones and a lot of release and no aggression.  Right?”

Even nods, but Isak’s barely paying attention.  He’s so caught up in trying to work this out that he’s sitting forward without even really realising it and his hands are shaping ideas in the air in front of him.  He catches Even’s gaze and there’s so much wonder and delight in that expression that Isak can’t look away. The rest of his speech is made staring right into those beautiful blue eyes Isak loves so dearly.  

“So, the only difference is where your dick happens to be when it all happens and honestly, Even … scientifically, that’s not likely to be important.”

“Scientifically?”  There’s a wary hope in that voice and it gives Isak confidence.

“Mmmmhmmm.”  Isak nods again, firmly.  He’s making a point, and he sits even further forward when he speaks again, trying to impress this on Even.  “Can I ask something personal?”

“Of course you can, always.”  The warmth in Even’s voice makes Isak relax even more.  He’s much more at ease now that he knows what’s been wrong.  That it’s not an _Isak_ issue, but rather something that Even is worried about in _himself._

“Did you like it when you were … aggressive?”

Even looks taken aback by the question.  As if he’s never really considered this before, at least not from this side.  That really stops Isak in his tracks; that Even has just accepted this as a fundamental part of who he is to the point where he hadn’t even considered asking if he actually liked it.  Even considers for a moment, then shakes his head.

“No, I didn’t.  I hated it.”

Isak sits back, throwing his hands wide and grinning.  “There you are then. Proven with science.”

“How exactly does that prove anything?”

“I don’t know, Even.  It just does.” He’s teasing, trying to show Even he probably doesn’t need to worry, so the petulance is put on.  Isak desperately needs Even to stop feeling this way about himself. He has no way to know if his words are helping at all, but he hopes they do.  It seems like he’s made some impression as Even’s so focused on him, with a wary hope shining in his eyes, so he carries on. “You don’t like it, it never happens when we’re together, and scientifically that’s not likely to change … so, you know … science.  Proven.”

Even laughs; it’s cheerful and open and Isak relaxes at the sound.  Even reaches out and pulls Isak into him for a kiss.

“You can’t know for sure, though,” Even says as he pulls back, and the hint of hope and vulnerability in his voice pulls at something deep in Isak’s chest.

“No,” Isak says.  “But neither can you.  So … I say we try it and if you feel like it’s getting out of hand … well, then we stop.  No harm done.”

This is the surest thing he knows.  He _knows_ Even, knows he’s not going to be an asshole, because he wants to do the right thing and he wants Isak to be comfortable.  So Isak knows that they can and will stop if Even’s worries prove to be true. But he can see the gears whirring in Even’s head, the tiny frown that creases between his brows, the twist to his mouth.  He can tell Even’s getting caught up in his head again, so he laughs. It’s forced and awkward, but it works, dragging Even’s eyes to his.

“Stop overthinking, Even.  I want to do this, I want you to do this and I trust you.  Okay? I trust you.”

“Okay.  But you have to say if it gets too … much.”

Isak gets it.  He knows how it feels to have thoughts that refuse to leave.  He knows the way _he_ needs some sort of reassurance when he’s trying to get out of his own way, so he understands that Even feels the way he does.  So he nods and whispers, “I will, baby, I promise. But it won’t, I’m sure of it.”

Then he moves so he’s kneeling on the bed and crawls towards Even, eyes intent.  Whether they get through to the end of this or not, Isak wants to stop talking. He wants to get back to enjoying his time with his boyfriend, to recapture the feelings that were flowing before they got inside this afternoon.  So he straddles Even’s lap, pressing his body right up against Even’s and kissing him. He’s not really used to being the one who’s taking control like this, but he’s desperate now and he wants Even to feel like he can relax. The energy that was set loose on the street outside the flat is back and after the tension of the last few minutes, Isak’s body is reacting predictably to his sudden release of tension.  

He pushes so that Even is lying back on the bed, and when Isak pulls back to look at him, Even’s eyes are wide and his lips are dropped open.  It’s obvious that he’s enjoying this and Isak feels a surge of excitement as he leans back down. His legs are clamped either side of Even’s hips, pressing him into the bed and Isak can feel the hard lines of their dicks lined up and he pushes down, trying to get some friction.  Even groans; Isak feels it in his chest. His own moan is involuntary, a reaction to the pressure between them, and the frustrating layers of clothes still separating them.

“I want your dick in me.  Today. Is that okay?” Isak asks, his lips hovering close to Even’s.  He can’t even really see Even’s nod, but feels the movement as Even answers.

“Yeah,” he says.  “That’s … that’s okay.”

And that’s all Isak needs.  He kisses Even again. Then again and again until they’re both panting.  Their clothes are removed somehow, Isak isn’t really keeping track. He’s just focused on what’s going to happen, his body thrumming with the knowledge that if things go right over the next few minutes, he’s going to know what Even’s dick feels like inside him.  The thought makes his body flush, heat flooding every inch of his skin until he feels like he’s going to combust.

By the time they’re naked, Isak can feel the anxiety starting to rise in Even’s body, tense against his own again.  He sits up on Even’s legs and smiles down at him. His smile draws one from Even along with a moaning gasp. Isak checks him silently, and in these few seconds of pause, Even’s anxiety seems to have ebbed.  He even moves, his body restless under Isak’s own, and Isak’s desire spikes. He can see the want in Even’s eyes and leans down to kiss him. Even sighs into it, sitting up so Isak has to slide back on his lap, and wrapping his arms around him.  Isak feels every inch of those arms on his skin and shivers under the touch. They kiss again.

The heat has settled between them now, the desperate lust has disappeared and been replaced by the heady feeling of kissing.  Lips dragging on each other, tongues licking into each other’s mouths, hands roaming each other’s bodies. The tension builds again, as the kisses becomes more heated and the hands more eager in their exploration, and Isak _needs._  He wants to know what Even will feel like inside him, wants to feel that connection in as much of his body as he can.  So he begs. “Please,” he gasps, and Even nods as if he’s answering the unspoken question.

Even rolls so Isak is on his back, then reaches into the drawer by Isak’s bed.  He pauses as his fingers touch something and Isak can take a shrewd guess what that is.  The fucking condom box he’d stashed there in a fit of feeling responsible a few days ago.

“You’ve been planning this?” Even asks, and there’s a wariness in his voice.

Isak can feel the blush creeping onto his face as he shakes his head.  “Not planning, exactly,” he says, trying to gauge what Even thinks of this, whether that wariness is going to deepen.  Whether he’s going to see it as a pressure that Isak never intended. “Just maybe … wanting it, and wanting to be prepared,” he adds, trying to clarify a little, trying to make sure Even understands he wasn’t trying to push him into something he doesn’t want.

“I fucking love you,” Even says, and Isak gasps as he registers the words.  He can’t quite believe what he’s just heard, not after the anxious thoughts that were just whirling.  It’s hard to register, fully, that Even’s been feeling the same things Isak has. That Even just said something that big in this moment.

“Say it again,” Isak says, wanting to hear it, wanting a new confirmation of this.  Wants to be sure he didn’t just dream those words because he’s been so desperate to hear them.

“I love you,” Even says, and that’s all it takes for Isak to let himself fall into his joy.  No-one has ever said that to Isak before, not like that. There were the soft murmurs from his parents when he was younger, of course, but that wasn’t a choice.  Parents have to love you, so there’s no special meaning there, and besides they stopped saying it as Isak’s mother fell into her beastliness and his father couldn’t cope anymore.  This is _Even,_ the most wonderful person Isak has ever met, choosing to love him.  It feels big and special and when Isak admits to Even that this is the first time he’s heard those words, and he hears the vulnerability in his voice, Even’s answering smile is enough to set something bright and vibrant alight inside Isak.

“Oh, baby.  You deserve to hear it every day,” Even says as he leans down to kiss Isak.  His voice is so strong and so confident, but so serious and almost reverent, and Isak responds to it, responds to the adoration in that kiss.  He can’t allow Even to say something like that and not reciprocate. It’s not like Isak hasn’t been thinking this exact same thing. It’s felt so self-evident that he hasn’t ever said it, even though he’s felt it building for such a long time.  But the thing is, Isak has never really dared to hope that Even could or would feel the same way back.

“In case it wasn’t obvious, I love you too,” he whispers.  Even’s reverence over the words has transferred to Isak too and he says it as quietly as he can, so it’s between them and no intruding ears can hear them.  Some deep emotion blooms on Even’s face. Relief maybe, or joy. Something that speaks of disbelief anyway, and Isak wants to kiss that disbelief away every day for the rest of his life.

“Really?”  Even asks.

“Really,” Isak responds.  Even’s lips are so close to his that it’s like a breath of sanctity between them.  He lets himself close the gap, kisses Even to seal the moment. Then Even sits back.  His eyes are giddy and he smiles. It’s a smile that lights him up and to which Isak is compelled to respond.  

He could lie here all day, just drowning in that glorious smile, but Even raises his eyebrows, silently reminding Isak what they were doing, and asking if Isak wants him to continue. Isak is brought back to the moment.  He nods, lets himself focus again on what’s about to happen. Even slides down the bed until he’s in position between Isak’s legs, and Isak sucks in a breath. It’s here, then, what Isak has been dreaming of for so long.  The confession he’s just heard and made is still ringing between them, leaving Isak swamped with delight and a little light headed already. He’s not entirely sure how he’s going to survive the rest of this moment.

Isak’s emotions are all over the place from the overwhelming knowledge that Even actually _loves_ him and he can’t control his reactions.  Something as innocuous as the lube bottle popping open in Even’s hands makes him giggle.  Even kisses his thigh, tickling with his lips, and Isak can’t contain the snigger that escapes again.  He’s close to drunk on the feelings Even’s love has created in him and he’s almost reacting the way he does when he’s high; floating and feeling slightly otherworldly from the emotions of today.  

He lies with his legs open, the way they both know he likes when Even has his fingers inside him and Even grins at him, looking just as giddy as Isak feels.  His finger runs gentle circles around Isak’s rim and he sighs. There’s more here than usual, not just from the knowledge that they’re doing something different, but from the sense of love Isak can _feel_ being showered onto him through Even’s fingers as he presses one inside and holds Isak’s gaze.  There’s so much love in that look that Isak loses himself in it as Even carries on.

He works quickly today, not taking his time to work on Isak’s prostate as he usually does, but he still manages to brush against it enough that Isak’s soon moving restlessly against Even’s hand, the slight burn of the fingers a pleasant presence which grounds Isak.  He’s babbling, he knows it, broken moans and gasping pleas. He needs Even inside him, wants to press against Even and feel the closeness in as much of his body as he can. As he looks at Even, whose fingers have stilled now that the moment is near, Isak smiles, lets his love and trust shine through.

“I’ll let you know, baby, I promise,” Isak whispers, recognizing the concern and wanting to reassure Even again.  Even nods, rolls a condom on, adds a lot more lube, then positions himself. The feeling of Even at his entrance makes heat pool in Isak’s body again; there’s a slight pressure against him as Even is almost breaching, and it takes Isak’s breath away.  It’s a very different feeling to the way it has been when Even’s finger sits there for a moment before it enters; bigger, more present. There’s a long moment where Even just stares at Isak, love in his eyes and a plea on his lips, before he’s pressing in.  It’s a lot, despite the slowness with which Even is taking this. Isak sucks in a breath, makes himself relax as Even pauses.

He takes stock, notices that his fingers are clutching tight to the sheets below him, and tries to relax them too.  Isak has read enough, and heard enough, to know that being relaxed right now is the most important thing. Even’s eyes are closed when Isak looks up at him and he can feel the affection welling in his chest.  He’s so damn beautiful, hair falling in his face, and his mouth formed around a silent word, clearly shaking with the effort of holding still. Then Even’s eyes are open and on his own and Isak falls into the deep blue.  He smiles.

“You can go more,” he says.  “I’m ready.”

Even nods, and then he’s pushing in again.  If Isak wasn’t already madly in love with this boy, he’d have fallen right here and right now.  He’s so careful, taking his time, stopping now and then to assess Isak’s comfort. Isak feels so treasured and it’s such a new feeling that he’s almost overwhelmed again by the care Even is taking.  By the time Even is fully inside, Isak has wrapped his legs behind his back. It’s a lot, the way Even feels inside, but it’s good. There’s a burn, and he can feel Even in every inch of his skin inside and out.  Even’s so close, his face only a breath away from Isak’s own, and he drops his head slightly, just enough to connect their lips. Something in the way he moves as he does it presses him into Isak in a different way and he hits Isak’s prostate.  It’s so similar to when he’s fingered, but so different at the same time, and Isak can’t help the gasp that is dragged out of him.

“Fuck,” he breathes against Even’s mouth.  “Even, fuck.”

“Good?” Even asks, and Isak nods.  His hands are buried in Even’s hair and his legs are still holding Even in place, still wanting to be as close to Even as he can be.

“So good,” Isak breathes, kissing him again.  “Move. Please.”

Even does, and again it’s slow and careful and Isak loves him for it.  They rock together, kissing at every thrust until Even ends up burying his face in Isak’s neck and breathes kisses into the sensitive skin there with every movement.  The drag of Even’s dick inside Isak hits the right spot almost every time and it’s different than fingers. Less pressure, less finesse and control, but more intense when it happens.  Pressure is building in Isak’s body, behind his balls, and he can feel his dick rigid against Even’s belly. There’s pressure there too, as it brushes against Even at every thrust and Isak knows he’s close.  His hands are firm in Even’s hair, trying to anchor himself now that there are no more kisses. He’s so caught in the moment, in feeling the slow thrusts of Even inside him, of the rub of his dick on Even, that Isak almost misses the moment when he tips.  So it’s almost a shock when he cries out, tension ripping through his body as his body tries to arch off the bed and he spurts over both of their bellies.

Even follows soon after, only a few thrusts behind Isak, and he lies panting, his head still buried in Isak’s neck.  Isak lets himself run his fingers through Even’s hair, and over his back. His own breath slowly returns to normal as he attunes it to the slow movements of his hands over Even’s shuddering skin.  They lie there, settled together, and Isak is reveling in the feeling. It feels a little raw now that it’s over and Isak is able to pay attention to what his body is saying. When Even pulls out, Isak can’t contain the small whimper he makes.  It’s a little painful, that drag, now that his body has spent itself. But Even kisses him while he moves and the pain quickly fades, leaving the satisfying afterburn Isak loves so much. Deeper and more intense this time.

“See,” Isak says, feeling smug.  “Science.”

“Okay, baby,” Even says, huffing a laugh into Isak’s hair as he lies back down next to him once he’s ditched the condom.  “You win this one.”

Isak rolls over onto his stomach, propping his head on his hands against Even’s chest, so he can look into Even’s eyes.  He asks, “it was okay though?”

“More than okay, baby.  It was great.”

“No, but I mean … no Beast?”

Even shakes his head.  “Nope, no Beast. At all.  Didn’t even have to control it; it never showed up.”

“I’m glad,” Isak says now as he props his leg over Even’s in his usual way and drops his head back onto Even’s chest.  “I want to do that again.”

Laughing, Even kisses his hair, and Isak feels the soft brush as that kiss lingers.  “Whenever you like.”

They cuddle into each other, and Isak feels the now-familiar sleepiness starting to take him over again. “I meant it, you know,” Isak says, sighing as he settles more firmly against Even’s chest.

“Meant what?”

“That I love you.  It wasn’t a sex thing.”

Even laughs again and kisses Isak’s hair one more time.  Isak will probably never tire of how that feels for as long as he lives, not now that it’s tied so closely with this day and this moment.  The moment he knew he was loved.

“I know,” Even says.  “Me, too.”

 

The heady feeling of being told he’s loved stays with Isak over the next few days, keeping him constantly joyous and giddy.  It’s like something has flipped inside of him. He smiles more easily, hums under his breath as he moves around his space, holds himself with his shoulders back more, less slumped.  For his part, Even follows him with his eyes, smiling that beautiful smile that uses his entire face whenever he sees how happy Isak is. He could get used to this, Isak muses one day as he’s cooking their evening meal.  Even’s sitting at the table, his chin propped on his hands and staring intently at the wall beside Isak, and Isak is casting fond glances over his shoulder at him. They’d been teasing each other moments ago, and Isak had watched with amusement as Even had fallen into a daydream.  Something they’d said must have sparked his imagination, because Isak recognizes the look Even gets when he’s framing some piece of art in his mind. He wonders, idly, if this art piece is going to end with Isak and a dick again; that’s something of a common theme in Even’s art these days.

There’s music on the radio, something poppy and stupid, its joyous burbles adding to the giddy sense of delight that surrounds Isak, and the kitchen is filled with the smell of frying onions and the faint steam rising from their pan.  Their sizzle is the only sound that breaks the silence. It’s blissful, domestic, and Isak wonders what it would be like to have this forever. It’s a startling thought, one that’s novel enough for Isak that he stops pushing the onions around the pan for a moment and stares at the wall himself.  ‘Forever’ speaks of stability and security and of wanting to be with someone for long enough that, as a concept, it doesn’t seem as ludicrous an idea as it might sometimes appear. Forever, after all, is impossible. Isak glances over his shoulder at Even and catches his eyes. They’re soft and warm, the smile on his face tender and adoring.  Yes, Isak thinks, he _could_ do that forever, or whatever version of forever this life allows him.  But he doesn’t want to interrupt this bubble of theirs with grandiose, overly-thought plans for the future, so he just lets his own deep affection bleed into the corners of his mouth and the creases of his eyes and finishes cooking.

“Here you are,” he says, giving Even a kiss when he puts the plate in front of him.  Because he can, because he’s not going to deny himself the opportunity to revel in all the small moments.  Not anymore. He goes to the door, yells for Eskild and Linn to come eat, then sits at the table, squished next to Even.  They technically don’t have to squish quite as much as they do, but Isak loves this time, loves the feeling of Even’s legs pressed close to his own as they eat together.

Eskild walks in just as Isak is holding out a piece of meat to Even on his fork and he clears his throat loudly.

“This is all very nice, my little angel gay, but please keep the google eyes to a minimum at the table.  We’re all trying to eat here.”

“Fuck you, Eskild,” Isak says, turning back to his own food.  “I cooked, so I get to behave how I want to.”

“Ah, there he is,” Eskild says beaming, his eyes brimming with delight.  “My grumpy, sarcastic little teenager. I wondered where he’d gone.”

Isak rolls his eyes, too relaxed to push back on this one, but Even’s fingers find his thigh and squeeze and he asks, casually, “you like it when he’s grumpy, Eskild?”

“Oh.  Well, not so much _like_ maybe … more that it’s more usual.  This,” he waves his hand at Isak, who’s leaning into Even’s touch and smiling at everyone, “is not so usual.  It’s weird and uncomfortable.”

“Well, I like the happier Isak,” Even says, a small frown settling between his brows.  “Being grumpy isn’t much fun.”

“You don’t have to worry about grumpiness, Even,” Linn says as she enters and slides into her seat.  “There’s not much grumpiness left here.”

She picks up her fork and starts eating, her eyes fixed on her plate.  She seems oblivious to the prophetic tone of the words she just uttered and Isak guesses that’s probably because prophecy is so natural to her.  It’s still a nice thing to hear. The last time she spoke prophetic words for Isak, they pointed to the heartbreak Isak suffered when he found out that Even was a Beast and had a girlfriend.  These ones point to a happier future, and that makes Isak breathe out a sigh of relief. It’s not that he questioned his current blissful existence, but there was always an edge, a worry that it couldn’t last.  But Linn’s words allow Isak to relax. Things seem to be looking up. Isak’s sleeping patterns may still be a little out of whack, but he’s eating better and he’s starting to catch up with the school work that slid alarmingly when Even was so sick and Isak was so worried.  Things are good.

The only thing that’s looming and isn’t _quite_ so good is Isak’s impending visit to his mother.  He knows it’s only a matter of time before his father starts hinting again, and Isak would like to head it off early if he can.  So when he and Even get back to Isak’s bedroom, he pulls out his phone and sits on the bed staring at it for a long moment.

“You’re okay?” Even asks, and Isak shakes his head slightly.  

“I need to go see Mamma.  Probably this week,” he says.  “I keep putting it off, but I can’t anymore.”  

He shivers as he looks down at her last messages to him.   _Repent, then, of this evil plan of yours, and pray to the Lord that He will forgive you for thinking such a thing as this._  It had been followed quickly by _You will never succeed in life if you try to hide your sins. Confess them and give them up; then God will show mercy to you._  Between them, Isak has a feeling his mother knows.  That she wants him to tell her about what’s going on with him.  But there’s an edge to it, an undertone suggesting that she wants him to turn away from his true self.  So, on one hand, if she _has_ already guessed, then Isak doesn’t have to worry about how to tell her.  But on the other hand, he doesn’t think he’s going to be able to stuff himself back into the box he’s lived in for so long.  It’s hard, too, because he loves her, despite all her faults. And knowing Even has given Isak more insight into how she must feel when she loses control of her beastly side and his heart aches.  He wants to be there for her, but he’s not sure if he can if she isn’t able to love who he really is.

“It’ll be okay, Isak,” Even says gently from the spot beside Isak that he’s moved to while Isak was caught up in his head.

“Yeah,” Isak says, looking at him.  “She can feel how she feels. I can’t do anything about that.”

“Exactly,” Even says, squeezing his leg.  “And no matter how it is, I’ll be here when it’s done.”

Isak lets out a shaky breath and nods.  He quickly sends a message asking if they can meet up in the next day or so, then throws the phone away from him.  It lands on the pillow, face up, and the messages she sent are still showing. The bright square of the phone stark against the cotton draws attention to them.   _Hide your sins.  Evil plan. Such a thing as this._  Isak shudders, determined to try to talk about it with her.  He can’t keep diminishing himself just to please her, and if it results in a rage, well … Isak’s just going to have to deal with that.

  


Isak’s best admonitions to himself aren’t enough to still the pounding of his heart when he stands in front of her doorway a couple of days later, looking up at the sign which still bears his name, and trying to calm the trembling of his fingers.  He takes one great, deep breath and pushes his way inside. It’s best to just do it and get it over with, Isak knows this, and yet he still takes his time removing his shoes, makes sure he lines them up perfectly next to the row his mother has made of her own.  But eventually, he can’t put it off any longer and makes his way through into the living room.

His mother is sitting in her favorite chair, her feet tucked carefully in under the base and her sewing in her hands.  He eyes are intent on the intricate patterns she is painstakingly making in the fabric. She looks up and her face lights when she spots Isak, and she springs to her feet to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Isak, my son!” she says.  “You’ve come to visit.”

“Yes, Mamma, I have,” he says.  “How are you?”

She sits down again, chats for a few moments about her days at the shelter and how happy she is that the man she’d spoken of last time Isak visited had overcome his trials completely and was now back in the embrace of his family.  

“Totally healed, Isak,” she says.  “It’s proof that you don’t need to be in-archetype to be happy and healthy.”  She stops, smiles at him sadly. “Do you think it’s possible for me one day?”

“Mamma,” Isak says, taking a seat next to her and putting his hand on her arm.  “There’s always hope.”

She shakes her head.  “I wish I could believe that.  But I can’t control it. Not without a Beauty.”  She looks up into his face, her eyes sincere and desperate.  “Whatever you do, Isak, you can’t allow yourself to stray out of the natural way.”  She pats the hand that’s on her arm. “You’re so happy and settled today; it’s so nice to see you fitting into the proper ways finally.  Have you finally found a nice Outcast girl to bond with?”

He opens his mouth, wants to tell her.  Her assumption that only an Outcast bond can lead to happiness for him is so patently false, and Isak wants to get it all out there, wants to explain that she’s not doomed just because she doesn’t have a Beauty.  Even’s name is soft on his lips and he wants to tell her _why_ he’s so happy right now.  It should be easy to open his mouth and blurt out the words that are sitting on his tongue.  But the delight on her face is so bright and she’s so excited that he can’t bring himself to do it.  He can’t bring himself to risk a rage if he says anything she may not agree with. So he just nods and murmurs something noncommittal about a possible bond and some Outcasts he’s met.   _Fucking coward_ , he hisses at himself as she gathers herself up and leads him to the kitchen.   _You know Emma’s nothing to you.  Just tell her, for fuck’s sake._

He sits in the bright space, watching his mother chop vegetables and make broth, with a smile plastered on his face and hates himself for the lies he’s telling.  She continues to chatter, meaningless fluff about the people she meets every day and the projects she’s making. Today’s piece is going to be a cushion to gift to her local church.  Isak smiles and nods, the strain cracking the muscles around his mouth with the effort of keeping himself small enough for her.

“Mamma?” he asks finally, cutting into a story about a dog that’s been terrorizing the neighbor’s cat for the last week.  

She’s cheerful enough that Isak can tell this is one of her good days.  This could be his best chance to do this when she’s most calm and least likely to react badly.  She glances at him, her brows raised in query.

“I … uh.  I don’t …” he pauses, tries to find a way to start this that’s non-threatening.  “How do you know if a bond’s a bond?” he settles on finally. “It’s just … not so easy to tell.”

“Mmmm,” she says, her eyes glazing a little as she stares into the distance.  “The Outcasts at the shelter, you know the ones?”

Isak nods.  He’s met some of those people before.  Old, poorly dressed people who’ve had a bond and lost it and are still pining for what they used to have.  Or those who have never felt a bond and have been left bitter and unhappy, resentful of their situations and that they are left unfulfilled and aggressive in a rundown house filled with rundown people.

“They describe it as a coming together of two souls.  Or more, I guess, when it’s a circle. It’s people who understand each other on an instinctual level.”

Isak frowns.  “That sounds very mystical and flighty.  Isn’t there some science behind it?”

Mamma laughs, her joy spilling out from her.  She’s always liked it when she can teach him something; he got his curious mind from her.  “You never change, do you? Ever since you were a little boy you’ve been this way. If there’s no proof, you don’t want to know.”  

Isak grimaces, but he has no comeback to that; she’s not wrong.  She sets the pot of soup she’s made onto the table in front of him and sits down too before she continues, smiling over at him.

“Some things you just have to trust in, Isak.  You’ll know it when you feel it.”

She bows her head and says grace, before nodding to Isak that he can start eating.  Her words have made him feel a little easier, but he still can’t bring himself to mention Even’s name.  So he just fills his bowl and eats his soup silently, pondering what she said, and lets her sink into her own thoughts.  It’s actually peaceful, sitting here with late afternoon sunlight streaming in the windows and a calm quietness surrounding them.  It’s been a long time since he felt this easy with his mother. But he knows he has to say something sometime soon. This peace is only skin deep, laid over their relationship like a mask.  If he doesn’t say something to her soon, Isak is going to find himself living an increasingly difficult lie.

Maybe, he thinks flushed with guilt … maybe he should tell her through a text.  That way he can form his words more carefully, without the fumbles that panic will inevitably lead him to if he tries to do it to her face.  That way, he doesn’t have to look at her as she takes it all in, doesn’t have to see the way her face will twist when she figures out what her only child is saying.  That way, she gets to take time to process it and can choose her own words too. _Yes,_ Isak decides as he sets another fake smile on his face, _a text is best.  Kindest._  For both of them.  It’s not cowardly if he does it out of love and compassion for his mother’s needs, right?

“Isak?” Mamma asks, and he starts, dragged out of his thoughts by the curiosity in that voice.

“Yes?”

“You seem different somehow.  Did you …” she trails off, clearly trying to find a way to ask this question.  “Have you … found someone? A … a bond?” She stops, looks at him for a moment, then adds with a smile of understanding, “or maybe just someone?”

Isak blushes.  He hadn’t realized he’d been so obvious.  But then he _did_ ask about bonds, and it _has_ been a long time since he went to her with anything serious.  It probably wasn’t that hard to figure him out.

“I don’t know, Mamma,” he says.  Then he decides he has to do at least some of it now.  This is too perfect an opportunity for him to throw it all away just because he’s scared.  His heart starts thundering, heat flames his cheeks, and he can’t control the way his body shakes.  “I’m … still trying to figure it out. But … bond or not, it’s not … we’re not … it’s not an Outcast.”

Isak can’t bring himself to look at her.  He’s said all of that while staring at the tablecloth, tracing the hardanger patterns around the edge with his eyes and noticing where it’s frayed in one tiny spot.  He hears a rustle, the scrape of a chair’s legs squeaking on the floor. Footsteps. Then there are arms around him and his head is pulled into her chest.

“Oh, Isak.  I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said all that before.”  She sits down next him and lets him sit back, takes his face in her hands and smiles.  It’s bright and loving and Isak’s heart starts beating a little less frantically. “You know it’s okay, right?  It’s a lot harder than if it’s an Outcast, but of all types Outcasts do best outside their pairings. If they choose to.”

Isak swallows, nods.  He hadn’t really known what to expect from her, but it certainly wasn’t this.  Outcasts are loners and don’t really engage outside their own type. That’s what he’s always been told, and he’s not sure why he’s only hearing about this now.  But she works with people who have been damaged by archetype-related things, so she probably has a perspective many others might not. “I think it may be a bond, Mamma.  But I don’t know.”

He can’t bring himself to say more than that.  He’d love to discuss how confused he is by all of this, but he can’t let himself do it.  He still doesn’t know how she’ll react to the most essential parts of all this. His mother must see some of his hesitation in his eyes.

“Ah well, you’ll work it out,” she says, her voice kind as she pats his hand and gets up to return to her own seat.  “So long as you’re happy.” She smiles at him, her eyes creased in a way that reminds him a little of Even, and he wonders if it might be a Beast thing.  Or if he just happened to fall for a boy who reflects his mother’s good points. “We’re family, Isak,” she says. “And family supports each other no matter what.”

Isak smiles weakly.  It’s genuine, but there’s a shiver of guilt.  Isak’s fairly sure she doesn’t mean it the way he’s taken it, but he can’t help but remember that he left her alone and moved in with strangers.  He’s not been particularly supportive of her. He’s annoyed, too, that he can’t make himself take the opportunity she’s presented. He can’t tell her the two most important pieces of information.  That Even is a boy and he’s a Beast. Isak’s fairly sure that would change her tune very quickly, that her support would disappear like a gossamer mist, and he can’t bring himself to do it. This was a start, albeit a small one, and Isak reminds himself that he doesn’t have to do it all at once.  He takes a shaky breath and lets the smile settle more.

“Thanks, Mamma.”

One thing her words have done is reminded him that he should look into bonds more.  The idea that it may not be completely out of the ordinary for him to be with Even gives Isak a sense of peace.  But he can’t take his mother’s word for it; sometimes what she hears at the shelter isn’t exactly properly researched and sourced, and until he gets something official, Isak isn’t willing to trust it.  Not completely.

His heart is lighter, however, as he sits on the tram home resting his head on the window.  The lights of the city flicker past, but Isak barely notices them. He’s caught instead in that idea that families support each other, and thinking how he hasn’t been as supportive of his own as he should have been.  But then he thinks of Eskild waiting for him at home with a warm mug of coffee and a cheerful, if rude, commentary on his newfound happiness. Of Linn and her prophecies and her calm demeanor and the way she makes sitting quietly together a peaceful haven.  He thinks of Even most of all. Of the way he always has and always will support Isak in whatever he needs, and how he can soothe Isak with just one touch, make him laugh with just one word.

Isak’s mamma, she’s family, yes.  But Isak has to remind himself it’s a relationship that broke and that they are healing it.  Slowly. And that it isn’t his fault that she wasn’t able to care for him the way she once had.  The fact that he still has to walk on eggshells with her most of the time doesn’t mean he’s not a good son, even if she had a good day today and he’s feeling all the guilt of how careful he still had to be just in case.  He thinks that his family, just as much as Isak’s ‘real’ family, is the one which is waiting for him back at the kollektiv. He smiles again, leaning on his window and watching the lights move past, slowing in their movement as the tram approaches Isak’s stop.  All he wants is to be home again, safe and warm in the flat with his family of misfits, a groups of people who looks all wrong for Isak on paper, but which nevertheless happens to be the perfect group of people for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a really whiny note here and I'm sorry. I deleted it because it really wasn't helping anyone. Having said that, the main point still remains: I love talking to people, so please come see me [on tumblr](https://evakuality.tumblr.com/) and I'll always be willing to respond :)


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